His final stop was Azure Cloud Academy. It was the town's only academy, far from the bustling streets in a quiet, out-of-the-way spot. Following his memories, Rong Zheng took turn after turn and walked quite a distance before arriving.
The academy consisted of gray-brick buildings with tiled roofs. A gateboy stood watch at the entrance. He recognized Rong Zheng and led him inside.
Upon entering the academy gates, the first thing Rong Zheng saw was a spacious courtyard surrounded by green willows. An old well stood in its center, its water clear enough to see the bottom. Beyond it were three flower-hung gatehouses, with covered walkways running around all four sides.
Past the flower-hung gates stood a row of main rooms, including classrooms for the students, resting quarters for the teachers, studies, and so on. The overall setting was tranquil and elegant.
The gateboy asked Rong Zheng to wait in the covered walkway. "I'll go inform Teacher Zhao first. Please wait here."
Very few rural families could afford to support a scholar, so most of the academy's students came from town.
The academy had three teachers. The original owner's former teacher was Zhao Yuan, who had earned his xiucai degree at twenty-five. He later failed the juren examination and, as he grew older, returned to town to teach.
Teacher Zhao was strict and upright. He never accepted private gifts.
He came from a farming family and knew well how difficult studying was for farmers' children. Most students were poor, and their studies could drain almost all their families' money. Those from town might fare better, but truly wealthy households were a minority.
Students had already paid their fees when attending the academy, so he had publicly stated that he would treat everyone equally and that there was no need to give him private gifts.
Having missed classes for several years, Rong Zheng planned to apologize to Teacher Zhao and bring up continuing his studies.
When Teacher Zhao heard the gateboy say, "Rong Zheng is here," his brow furrowed slightly. He knew Rong Zheng's parents had both passed away and that he had observed three years of mourning. He was probably here now to resume his studies.
"Bring him in."
The gateboy acknowledged the order and soon came out to lead Rong Zheng before Teacher Zhao.
He bowed respectfully. "Your student, Rong Zheng, pays his respects to Teacher Zhao."
Teacher Zhao said, "You've observed three years of mourning for your parents, haven't you? Have you come now to resume studying at the academy?"
"Yes, Teacher. I plan to return to the academy in three months, in September. I came today in the hope that you would agree."
To study at the academy, he needed a teacher willing to accept him.
"During these three years of mourning, did you keep reviewing your lessons at home?"
"Apart from a period of despondency when grief overwhelmed me after my parents passed away, I later came to my senses. After finishing my work in the fields, I would usually make time to read, so I wouldn't forget what I had learned."
That "period" had lasted about three years... Ahem. Rong Zheng's expression remained unchanged as he said this, though inwardly he felt somewhat ashamed.
The original owner had spent those three years sunk in despondency, drinking his days away in a drunken stupor and barely touching a book. Rong Zheng had said this to leave Teacher Zhao with a good impression, lest he refuse to accept him.
His words did indeed win Teacher Zhao's sympathy and a trace of approval. In Teacher Zhao's view, Rong Zheng had failed the preliminary examinations three times. If he still refused to work hard, he would not want to accept him.
"Do you intend to sit the preliminary examinations next February?"
Rong Zheng had come precisely because he wanted to take next year's examinations. The original owner remembered the books covered by the preliminary examinations very well and could be considered the hardworking type.
He had recalled the preliminary examination questions and felt that the original owner's repeated failures were probably due to insufficient understanding and rigid thinking when answering questions. He asked tentatively:
"Teacher, do you think I have a chance if I sit them next year?"
"It is naturally a good thing that you're returning to the academy to continue your studies. I don't mean to discourage you, but I must be honest. You haven't sat the examinations in years, so you're bound to be rusty. Still, even if you don't pass, sitting them will let you reacquaint yourself with the examination setting and the thinking behind the questions."
Well, that was one arrow to the chest. Teacher Zhao really was a blunt man. He hardly minced his words...
Teacher Zhao continued, "You failed the preliminary examinations on your first three attempts, so you need to spend more time on your studies than others. Why not start attending classes now?"
Another arrow struck. In other words, if you were slow, you had to work harder...
"To tell you the truth, I'm the only one left at home now. I need these next three months to put my household affairs in order before I can study with peace of mind. Although I won't attend the academy during that time, I will diligently review my books and practice calligraphy at home."
He had thought it through. Over these three months, he would make time to take stock of his studies. Although he had the memories, the original owner's understanding had fallen short, and Rong Zheng needed time to sort everything out.
More importantly, he also needed to earn money first, and there was the matter of Ye Yun's family to resolve. He realized he had a great deal to do.
Hearing this, Teacher Zhao understood, and his sympathy deepened. "Then go home and thoroughly study the books you copied before. Note down any questions you encounter, and when you come to the academy, I'll answer them one by one."
The original owner used to borrow the books covered by the examinations and copy them at home. Books here were expensive, costing several taels of silver apiece. To save money, children from ordinary farming families would pass them around, borrowing them to make their own copies.
Rong Zheng thanked him respectfully.
Teacher Zhao gave him one final reminder. "You must be diligent in your studies. Only effort brings rewards."
"Your student will keep that in mind."
Teacher Zhao was very pleased with Rong Zheng's earnest attitude. Seeing him again this time, he felt his bearing had changed. The old Rong Zheng had been young and shy, timid in his speech and behavior, and lacking in etiquette. Now, Rong Zheng was composed and courteous, poised and proper.
Perhaps, having lost both parents and grown three years older, it was hardly surprising that he had become more sensible, Teacher Zhao thought.
"Then go pay the fees to Steward Sun at the academy."
The academy had a steward specifically responsible for its miscellaneous affairs. Tuition cost two taels every six months.
After bidding Teacher Zhao farewell and paying the fees, Rong Zheng thought of buying some paper to practice his calligraphy at home, so he made a detour to a bookshop-the Distant View Bookshop.
Paper here came in two kinds: yellow paper and white paper. Yellow paper cost three wen a sheet, while white paper cost six, twice as much.
Rong Zheng bought thirty sheets of the relatively cheaper yellow paper, which alone cost ninety wen. A rural laborer might not earn that much in an entire day. One could easily imagine the expense of studying. It was outrageously extravagant.
Next, he went to choose a calligraphy copybook. The original owner's handwriting was overly rigid and lacked character. As a top student from the modern world, he knew very well how important good handwriting was in examinations.
Examiners had an enormous amount of work to mark each day. To leave a strong impression on them, one had to keep the examination paper neat and the handwriting beautiful.
The ancient martial arts family Rong Zheng came from placed great importance on teaching the younger generation to cultivate their minds and temperaments.
Practicing calligraphy was not merely an exercise in writing, but also a way of tempering one's disposition. Through repeated practice, a person would gradually develop a composed, calm mindset.
Impatience was the greatest taboo for martial artists. His elders had hoped Rong Zheng could temper his mind through calligraphy, so they had urged him to practice from a very young age.
At first, he focused on regular script, then studied clerical script as well. His command of the brush steadily improved, and his handwriting became quite outstanding. He had even personally written his family's Spring Festival couplets.
Since he intended to pursue the imperial examinations, he needed to study the locally popular calligraphic styles in depth. By copying copybooks, carefully absorbing their subtleties, and incorporating his own insights from practice, he would strive to develop handwriting that possessed the air of a master while displaying his own distinctive style.
Thus, he also bought brushes, ink, copybooks, and other supplies, bringing the total to over one tael.
He noticed another section of the bookshop devoted to storybooks. Curious, he began leafing through them, asking the shop assistant as he read, "Which storybook sells best here?"
The assistant pulled out a book and handed it to Rong Zheng. "Sir, this is the latest storybook, The Story of the East Chamber. It's very popular with married ladies, young ladies, and gers. It often sells out."
Rong Zheng quickly leafed through it and discovered that it told the story of a scholar and a young lady's troubled romance.
He found a few more bestselling storybooks and gave them a cursory glance. Most were romances, tales of the inner chambers, and the like-books meant for leisure and entertainment. It seemed the main audience for storybooks was women and gers.
A bold idea suddenly occurred to him. Back in the modern world, he had read quite a few popular novels aimed at male readers, spanning many genres, such as cultivating to immortality and godhood, killing monsters and leveling up, and even Cthulhu-style fiction.
Novelty was a key selling point for fiction. He could draw on Cthulhu-style fiction to write a book aimed at men. If it became a hit, wouldn't he make a fortune?
Yet he grew dejected again, because he was no good at writing novels. Having an idea without being able to build a story around it was useless!