Entrance Exam

Xikou County Town, the Zhao Estate of a wealthy merchant.

In the backyard, the servants' quarters.

As dusk approached, Old Fang, having finished a long day of duty, returned to the backyard.

Old Fang was over fifty, dressed in tattered clothes covered in patches. His frame was thin, and his eyes were half-closed and listless.

He walked toward his room mechanically, guided by memory.

"Old Fang, isn't school starting in a few days? I heard there's going to be a test this time, and those who fail will be expelled."

"My Cuicui has been leaving early and returning late every day, working so hard. She's sure to make it into the elite class this time. Maybe she'll even find a rich young master and become a wealthy lady."

"Your Little Fang will surely be fine too, right?"

Mother Wang's voice drifted across the corridor to Old Fang's ears.

The tone held a hint of mockery, but Old Fang clearly didn't catch it; he only heard Mother Wang asking about his son, Little Fang.

His previously murky eyes suddenly brightened, and the numb, sorrowful wrinkles on his face smoothed out slightly.

"My Little Fang has been working very hard lately. He told me he'll definitely pass the assessment."

"Once he graduates, he's going to carry a fountain pen in his pocket and become an official."

Hearing this, Mother Wang couldn't help but sneer inwardly, the corners of her mouth curling up.

Become an official? With Little Fang's character, he'd failed six out of seven subjects, with only physical education barely passing.

He was bound to be weeded out in this assessment.

Graduating? Not a chance.

But she certainly couldn't say that to Old Fang's face; everyone knew how much Old Fang treasured his son.

"That's no problem then. When has Little Fang ever lied to you? If he says he can do it, he definitely can!"

"Yes, I know. My son will definitely make it this time!"

Old Fang straightened his back, trying to unbend the spine that life had bowed.

His son, Little Fang, was destined to make a name for himself, and he had to maintain appearances for him.

"Alright, I won't talk anymore. My son is coming back soon, and I need to go find Hu Da to make him a bowl of noodles."

"You know, my son loves the chicken noodles Hu Da makes the most."

Old Fang estimated the time; it was about time for Fang Shuwen to return.

He hurried to cut the conversation short; he had to find the cook, Hu Da.

Otherwise, if the stove was extinguished, it would be too late.

"This Old Fang, he spoils his Little Fang too much. Who does he think he is, asking Hu Da to cook special meals? A whole month's hard-earned wages aren't even enough to cover the food costs."

"My Cuicui is so much more sensible. She studies well and even gets fed when she tutors others."

Mother Wang muttered to herself.

In her heart, she thought that for someone like Little Fang, paying for his schooling was like throwing silver dollars into the water.

After the public middle school entrance exam.

Once Little Fang was expelled, Old Fang would finally be able to catch a break.

The school was finally doing something good.

Once Old Fang came to his senses, he might even be able to save some money and find himself a wife.

On the other side, Fang Shuwen had just entered the Zhao Estate's backyard when he smelled the rich aroma of chicken soup.

The scent drifted from the direction of the kitchen, drilling straight into his nose and making his stomach growl.

"Master Hu's skills are truly beyond reproach."

He praised silently, his pace quickening involuntarily.

Rounding the corridor, he saw the glow of firelight spilling from the kitchen doorway.

A thin figure was hunched over, waiting at the entrance—it was his father, Old Fang.

"Dad."

Fang Shuwen called out.

Old Fang turned his head, his eyes lighting up.

"You're back? Come here quickly, Hu Da saved you a bowl of chicken noodles, and it's still hot."

"Master Hu, thank you."

Fang Shuwen cupped his hands in a salute toward the burly cook inside the kitchen.

"Little Fang, you child, why are you being so polite with your uncle?"

Hu Da responded in a muffled voice, stirring the iron ladle in the pot before adding another remark.

"Your father has been nagging me here for quite a while, saying that your studies are taxing on the brain and you need to nourish your body."

Fang Shuwen glanced at Old Fang.

In his memories, Old Fang had indeed been very good to the original owner; otherwise, he wouldn't have kept letting the unmotivated Little Fang stay in school.

Did he not know in his heart that Little Fang going to school was like throwing money into the water?

Yet, why did he keep supporting it?

It was nothing but a parent's love for their child.

Old Fang rubbed his hands together, looking a bit embarrassed, and muttered, "Hu Da and his loose lips, he just doesn't know when to shut up."

Fang Shuwen didn't say anything; in the days since he had transmigrated here, he had figured out Old Fang's temperament.

If he were too polite to him, Old Fang would actually feel very uncomfortable.

He was always saying things like, "You're going to be an official in the future, you have to mind your status."

Fang Shuwen carried the noodles and sat down at the stone table in the courtyard.

The noodles were hand-rolled, chewy and smooth, the chicken was stewed until tender, and the broth was thick, white, and savory.

Although the ingredients were simple, it was clear that Hu Da had put his heart into it.

Fang Shuwen had a good appetite and finished the large bowl of noodles clean in no time.

He set down the bowl, preparing to return to his room.

As if thinking of something, he reached into his pocket, pulled out two silver dollars, and handed them to Old Fang.

"Dad, you take this money."

Old Fang was stunned; he reached out to take the silver dollars, examined them, and then looked up at Fang Shuwen.

"Where did you get this money? Why give it to me? You need money for school, and you have to pay tuition when the term starts; there are plenty of places where you'll need it."

"The money is from a legitimate source. I played a game of chess well, and an old gentleman insisted on becoming my apprentice; this is the apprenticeship fee he gave me."

After Fang Shuwen finished speaking, he saw Old Fang open his mouth, clearly wanting to continue.

He quickly spoke up, his voice turning serious: "Take it, just take it."

Sure enough, Old Fang was very susceptible to this.

He ultimately didn't say what he had been about to say.

He clutched the two silver dollars, his heart blooming with joy.

This was the first time in all these years that Fang Shuwen had given him money.

His Little Fang was truly a promising person.

He would definitely be wearing a fountain pen and working as an official in the future.

After a long while, he managed to squeeze out: "You... you should play less chess and study more. Studying is the only proper path."

"Got it, Old Fang."

Fang Shuwen replied and walked straight toward the house opposite.

Although it was already dark, his mind was preoccupied with the matter of entering the path of martial arts today.

Instead of going back to review his books like the past few days, he passed through the moon gate and arrived at the adjacent courtyard.

The center of the courtyard was paved with square stone slabs and furnished with stone locks for strength training and a wooden dummy for sparring.

This had once been the place where the eldest daughter of the Zhao Estate, Zhao Xinlan, practiced martial arts.

However, ever since she went to Shenghai to attend university, this place had been left idle.

Fang Shuwen came here to test his current strength.

According to the original owner's half a month of experience at the martial arts school, a single crack of the bones meant entering the path of martial arts, and one's strength would at least double.

"Phew, although it's been idle and the original weapons have been moved away, these heavy stones and the wooden dummy were left behind."

"They'll come in handy today."

Fang Shuwen walked up to a row of stone locks.

The smallest stone lock was engraved with thirty jin.

Following that in order were fifty jin, eighty jin, one hundred jin, and one hundred and fifty jin.

The largest one weighed a full two hundred jin and was covered in dust, clearly having not been touched for a long time.

He took a deep breath, walked to the fifty-jin stone lock, bent down, and gripped the handle with his right hand.

In the predecessor's memories, the original owner had practiced here after returning from the martial arts school.

He would turn red in the face just trying to lift the fifty-jin lock, and the eighty-jin one wouldn't budge at all.

Fang Shuwen tightened his waist and back, exerting force with a single arm.

"Up!"