The family had already guessed most of it.
“Yuan’er, are you really going to choose an external posting?” the old madam asked, staring fixedly at Pei Bingyuan, her voice trembling.
Even for an external assignment, one would normally only be appointed as an eighth-rank county assistant magistrate. How could there be a seventh-rank post? Clearly, the place of assignment was no ordinary one.
Pei Bingyuan nodded lightly.
Inside the main hall, the two elders fell silent. Madam Lin opened her mouth as if to speak, then stopped, lowering her head as tears welled in her eyes. She couldn’t say a word. The Pei family held a hereditary title; in the eyes of the family, it would have been best for Pei Bingyuan to remain in the capital, take a modest post in one of the ministries, and live a respectable, steady life.
Who would have thought he would consider an external posting?
They all knew that although Pei Bingyuan was usually gentle and rarely angry, he was extremely stubborn when it came to decisions. Once he spoke of it, it meant he had already thought it through carefully.
Since persuasion was useless, Old Master Pei asked, “Where is the post, and what position?”
Seeing there was no avoiding it, Pei Bingyuan answered truthfully, “Three hundred li outside the capital, in Yuchong County of Dongyang Prefecture—as magistrate.”
Everyone stiffened. The old madam immediately burst into tears and urged, “Yuan’er, while it hasn’t yet been reported to the court, give up this idea… That kind of desolate, harsh place—how could you endure it? We can just stay here and live peacefully. It doesn’t matter if you don’t become an official.”
In the capital, everyone knew that the previous year, the dike in Dongyang Prefecture had burst. Yuchong County lay directly below the breach and had been flooded into a vast expanse of water. It was said that after the waters receded, a new river had carved its way straight through the middle of the county, winding eastward.
Although the flood had passed, everything that had once been built was either buried under silt or swept away. Yuchong County was now a wasteland. Those who remained were mostly displaced refugees with nowhere else to go, forced to reclaim their old land.
Taking office in such a place was no different from opening up wilderness. No wonder the court had raised the rank by one grade and appointed a magistrate.
The only advantage was that Yuchong County lay in the central plains, not too far from the capital—just a few days’ journey by carriage.
Old Master Pei also advised, “A family like ours really doesn’t need to suffer like that just for a seventh-rank post.”
Pei Bingyuan shook his head. “I’ve already made up my mind.” His gaze was resolute, though he did not dare look up at his wife.
He added, “Father and Mother know well—I’m not doing this for wealth or glory.”
“Then what are you doing it for?” the old madam pressed. Seeing she couldn’t stop him, her voice grew sharper, whether from anger or anxiety. “What is worth abandoning your family—your wife, your children—and insisting on going to such a wretched place? If anything were to happen…” She didn’t dare finish the ominous thought and swallowed her words with tears.
Pei Bingyuan had no answer.
At the Imperial Academy, he could still return home twice a month, and in emergencies, reach home within an hour or two. But if he went to Yuchong County, bound by official duties, he might only see his family a few times a year.
At last, he said, “To fight for a sense of dignity.”
From the civil examinations to entering the Imperial Academy and finally becoming an official, his emotions along the way had been complex and sensitive.
Pei Shaohuai had already begun his studies and taken his first step into the examination system. He understood his father—now forty, at an age of clarity, having watched others run ahead for years. Now that it was finally his turn to run, how could he not seize the chance?
It was all for that one breath of pride.
As for his wife, children, and parents—they might weigh on his heart, but they could not stop him.
Pei Shaohuai found it hard to judge such a father. One could praise his ambition and willingness to endure hardship, or resent him for neglecting his family. In this world, perhaps men like Pei Bingyuan were the norm.
…
That night, Pei Bingyuan returned to Madam Lin’s room.
Seeing her silently preparing his clothes for the next day, he said, “Shizhen, if you resent me, just cry it out. It’s better than keeping it all inside and refusing to speak to me.”
Madam Lin froze. The clothes slipped from her hands. The next moment, she could no longer hold back and threw herself into his arms, crying against his shoulder.
“All these years, you’ve managed this household so well—built up our business, raised Ying’er to be sensible and Huai’er to be clever. It’s all thanks to you,” Pei Bingyuan said softly, patting her back. “In the years ahead, you’ll have to bear the burden alone again. It’s my selfishness—I can’t stay by your side.”
In a place as desolate as Yuchong County, how could he bear to take his wife and children along to suffer?
Madam Lin pushed him lightly. “That’s not why.”
She continued, “Your health isn’t strong. Going to such a place without someone close to take care of you—how can I not worry? I’m afraid you’ll overwork yourself.”
“I know you care for me,” he said. “I’ve thought it over. When the time comes, I hope you’ll agree to let me take Old Zhou and his family. He and his three sons are capable—they’ll ease my burden.”
Madam Lin laughed through her tears. “Don’t make me sound like some tyrant who controls everything… You’re the head of the household. Who you take is your decision—I can’t stop you.”
Though she still felt uneasy, his attitude comforted her somewhat.
The two spoke tenderly for a long while.
Madam Lin snorted lightly. “If I’d known that at your age you’d still be running around like this, so restless, I would have…”
“Would have what?”
“I wouldn’t have married you.”
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t have allowed that… And since when am I ‘at such an age’?” Pei Bingyuan replied, half teasing, half indignant.
…
Thus, Pei Bingyuan’s decision to take the external post was settled. In a few months, after graduating from the Imperial Academy and receiving the court’s decree, he would depart for Yuchong County.
…
On the nineteenth of next month was Master Duan’s fiftieth birthday. The Xu family planned to host a celebration. As his students, Huai-ge and Jin-ge naturally had to prepare gifts.
On the way home after class, Pei Shaohuai reminded his younger brother, “Don’t forget Master’s birthday next month.”
“I won’t. I’m planning to check the jade shops, or have something carved,” Jin-ge replied, then asked, “What about you, Brother? Have you decided?”
Pei Shaohuai hesitated. “You already have an idea, but I haven’t thought of anything yet. I’ll consider it when I get back.”
When he discussed it with his mother, her first suggestion was also jade.
But since his brother had already chosen jade, giving the same gift might lead to awkward comparisons.
He shook his head. “Better to give something else.”
He also dismissed the idea of gifting a wheelchair he had designed—it might touch on painful memories.
Then he remembered: Master Duan loved collecting paintings.
Among contemporary artists, his favorite was an eccentric old Daoist living in a temple on Mount Mang outside the capital. His works were rare and could only be obtained by “fate.”
Pei Shaohuai decided to try.
…
After several attempts climbing the mountain, he finally met the old Daoist.
When he explained his purpose, the Daoist initially refused.
But when Pei Shaohuai mentioned that his teacher deeply appreciated one of his paintings—not for its subject, but for the subtle detail of a startled egret—the old man paused.
Moved, he finally said, “Come back next rest day to collect it.”
Half a month later, Pei Shaohuai received the painting: half lush green mountains, half jagged cliffs, unified into one scene, with a pine tree gripping the rock firmly—its roots intertwined, its foliage flourishing.
…
On Master Duan’s birthday, the students presented their gifts one by one.
When Pei Shaohuai’s painting was unrolled, Master Duan recognized it immediately. Delighted, he praised it at length and had it hung in the center of his study.
After the gifts, the teacher gave each student something in return.
To Pei Shaohuai, he handed a book. “You’ve memorized the Four Books and Five Classics. Your foundation is complete—now you can advance further.”
Inside were model essays by top scholars, annotated in red by the master himself, along with his own writings.
Pei Shaohuai immediately understood its value.
To Pei Shaojin, he gave an illustrated album and assigned him to write reflections every three days.
To Xu Yancheng, he gave both books and added a calligraphy piece with a single character: “慎” (caution), reminding him to guard his speech.
Finally, when asked about their progress, Master Duan said confidently, “Next year’s preliminary examinations—they’ll all pass.”
Not just attempt—but pass.
That confidence came not only from the boys’ talent, but also from his own teaching.