The tasks of purchasing raw silk and selling rice were all handled by Master Xu.
Fortunately, due to the establishment of the clan school, prominent figures in the county had begun to regard the Xu family with greater respect. The prices obtained from both transactions were quite favorable.
After bringing the silver home and settling the accounts, Master Xu went to Li Niang’s chamber. That night, after moments of tenderness, he lazily remarked:
“This has been a good year. The family’s income has been decent, which helps offset some of the losses from the clan school expenses.”
“By the way, Yuan Ge’er has been attending school for quite some time now. How far has he progressed in his studies?”
He recalled that when Yue Ge’er began his initiation of learning, it was said he mastered the Three Hundred Thousand Characters remarkably quickly. Although Yuan Ge’er was older and perhaps not as bright, he shouldn’t be too far behind his younger brother, should he?
Master Xu didn’t notice the slight tremble in Li Niang’s delicate frame as he held her.
How were the studies progressing?
Not well at all. The Xu clansmen all knew Yuan Ge’er was an illegitimate child, and his mother still lacked formal status. Who would respect him? Out of deference to the Xu family, no one openly bullied Yuan Ge’er, but neither did they indulge him. No one took him seriously.
This was unbearable for Yuan Ge’er, who had been pampered and spoiled since childhood. He refused to attend school and had to be coaxed and urged by Li Niang daily to go to the clan school. These days, he had barely managed to learn a few pages of the Three Character Classic!
The thought of this tore at Li Niang’s heart. Her son was unambitious, while that Yue Ge’er was exceptionally clever. After inquiring about his past progress, Li Niang grew both angry and anxious.
When Xu Lang asked about it, Li Niang didn’t dare answer. Instead, she resorted to coquettish antics and feigned innocence. Master Xu, lost in her charms, soon forgot what he had just asked.
…
As one waned, the other waxed. Xu Yue paid no mind to the affairs of the inner household, burying himself in books and thirstily absorbing the knowledge imparted by Teacher Feng. He also entrusted the agricultural ventures entirely to Landlord Xu, who worked the land meticulously, unlocking every bit of its potential.
Landlord Xu lived up to these expectations.
In the first year, through breeding, intercropping, fertilizing, and pesticide application, the yield increased significantly. Additional crops like soybeans and Chinese milk vetch also contributed to the income.
For the mountainous woodlands, suitable areas were planted with fruit trees. Employing scientific methods like branch thinning and grafting, the trees grew robustly.
In the second year, the rice harvest was once again abundant, and the mountainous lands began to yield returns. Although the first batch of fruits was small, they were sweet and large. Their early market arrival commanded exceptionally high prices.
Xu Yue had just turned five. His studies progressed steadily, and he had already studied the Four Books with Wen Xin, the eldest among them. He was now beginning to tackle the eight-legged essay and dabbling in poetry.
One morning, before the scheduled lesson time at Teacher Feng’s study, Xu Yue brought a food box filled with golden, egg-sized apricots, white cherries, and loquats.
“Freshly harvested fruits. Everyone, try some,” Xu Yue said, pushing the box toward the others.
Having been together for so long, no one hesitated. They each took a few pieces to eat. He Shun praised the fruits as he ate, saying, “My mother loves these too. She mentioned that your family’s fruits are scarce in the market and sell out instantly. She sent servants to buy some but couldn’t get any.”
If anyone else had said this, it might have seemed like a hint for Xu Yue to gift some fruits. But with He Shun, no one thought twice—he was simply passionate about food, straightforward and innocent, without ulterior motives.
Holding a white cherry in his hand, Xu Yue smiled and said:
“The trees planted just last year bearing fruit this season is already quite good. Next year should yield more.”
Upon hearing this, He Shun nodded vigorously. Xia Yu was peeling a loquat, revealing the sweet yellow flesh beneath. The large loquat had thin skin and abundant pulp—the moment it entered his mouth, clear, sweet juice burst forth.
He fell into thought. What concerned him most about the Xu family’s fruits was:
The price of forty wen per jin!
Far more expensive than meat. Though his family’s circumstances had improved over the past two years since he began studying under Scholar Feng—the landlord having waived their rent—they still couldn’t afford meat regularly, let alone such costly fruits.
Their usual fare consisted only of wild berries from the mountains and homegrown mountain loquats and peaches. Not only were these inferior in appearance, but their taste leaned more toward sour than sweet.
Lost in these thoughts, Xia Yu drifted into contemplation.
He wasn’t alone in his melancholy. Wen Xin was also feeling troubled. With officials evaluated every three years, this might be Magistrate Wen’s final year in office.
He didn’t know if they could remain in Danyang…
Teacher Feng was not only profoundly learned but also witty and humorous. His fellow disciples were all good people.
With such excellent mentors and companions, Wen Xin felt he had not only advanced greatly in his studies over these two years but had also grown in many other aspects. It was only natural he felt reluctant to leave.
Xu Yue glanced at the three and understood their expressions. She smiled faintly but refrained from commenting.
Everyone in this world has their own troubles. Unless you are in their position, offering unsolicited advice rarely helps and often invites resentment.
So she quickly changed the subject, bringing up the assignment Teacher Feng had given yesterday.
This was what students cared about most.
He Shun even stopped eating his fruit, hurriedly pulling out his book to memorize. Xia Yu, frowning intently, retrieved a short poem from his book bag and asked Wen Xin to critique it, wondering if any wording needed revision.
Wen Xin was equally anxious. His assignment with Xu Yue was to write a complete eight-legged essay from start to finish.
Feng Yi’s teaching methods were never rigidly traditional. He tailored his instruction to each disciple’s personality and learning progress.
Thus, his assignments were always precisely calibrated—requiring sincere effort to complete!
Xu Yue and the others felt as if whipped forward, not daring to slacken even slightly.
Soon, footsteps approached, and the disciples in the study sat up straight.
Feng Yi entered with a smile, wearing a blue Daoist robe, his long hair secured with a wooden hairpin. His demeanor was serene and dignified, his movements graceful, carrying an air of transcendent detachment.
For some reason, Feng Yi had recently developed an interest in Daoism, often chanting Daoist scriptures to calm his spirit. His enthusiasm for stargazing and divination grew, and he occasionally practiced fasting.
After reviewing each disciple’s assignment, Feng Yi began his critique. The group held their breath in nervous anticipation.
Following tradition, he started from the lowest level.
He Shun had memorized diligently and was approved to advance to the next stage. Relieved, he listened to the others’ evaluations:
“Xia Yu, though this short poem uses few allusions and avoids excessive ornamentation, it shows much less artificiality. I see you’ve taken my advice to heart.”
As soon as these words were spoken, Xia Yu visibly relaxed, the corners of his tight lips curling into a small smile.
Feng Yi then turned his gaze to Xu Yue and Wen Xin, sighing softly. Both instantly lost their composure, exchanging a glance.
Xu Yue: …Terrified.
Wen Xin: Same.
Thump!
Feng Yi knocked each lightly on the head with a bent knuckle, teasing:
“Why make such a strange face? I haven’t even said anything yet.” Hearing this, the two students scratched their heads and smiled sheepishly.
Feng Yi then evaluated Wen Xin: “Your diction is concise and appropriate, with exquisite use of allusions, but the entire piece lacks balance – top-heavy and unsteady.”
He advised Wen Xin to study more examination essays from the county and provincial levels to learn better structural composition.
Regarding Xu Yue: “Your perspectives are most novel, showing unique ingenuity that brings a refreshing sense of innovation…”
Before the smile could fully form on Xu Yue’s face, Feng Yi drew out his words and said “however,” making her heart sink.
Sure enough, what followed was a torrent of criticism – deliberately pursuing novelty, insufficient foundational knowledge, mere flashy appearance without substance.
Feng Yi paused to take a sip of tea, satisfied to see his youngest student bow her head again.
Of course, Yue Ge’er wasn’t as poor as he had made her out to be. Among the four disciples, the youngest had actually quietly taken the lead, surpassing even the ten-year-old Wen Xin.
This wasn’t because the other three were mediocre, but because transcendent geniuses naturally stand above the crowd.
Before dismissing the class, Feng Yi informed his students of some news—
He would be returning home to attend a relative’s wedding banquet and wanted to bring his disciples along to “witness the elegance of the place where literary talent is at its most refined.”
Feng Yi: “Staying in a small place for too long leads to narrow-mindedness and arrogance – that’s not what I want to see in my students.”
The disciples agreed, and Feng Yi looked at them with a smile. Though he spoke those words, he naturally had confidence in the students he had personally taught.
When his gaze fell upon Xu Yue, Feng Yi felt even more proud. This precious tree was finally about to be revealed to the world – how could he not be immensely excited?