Inside the Xue Residence, the hand warmer burned brightly.
Yet the air felt as if it had frozen over.
The lid of the tea bowl Madam Xue held clinked against the rim, producing a series of fine, sharp sounds.
Across from her, Xue Pan had one foot propped on a stool, his face flushed the color of pig liver.
“Mother! We can’t wait any longer!”
“Those bastards from the Zhen Family are opening shops right on our doorstep! If this continues, we’ll have to close down and beg for scraps in the Capital City!”
For half a year, the Xue Family’s silk business had plummeted.
The Zhen Family constantly introduced new styles, while aggressively pricing theirs just one tenth lower.
In Jinling City, wealthy families now only recognized the Zhen Family’s “Flowing Light Brocade”; who still remembered the Xue Family’s “Tribute Satin”?
“Brother, arguing won’t solve the problem.”
Xue Baochai’s voice was soft, but it instantly extinguished half of Xue Pan’s anger.
“Bao’er, you should say something! Our inventory is about to mold in the warehouse! Those shopkeepers look miserable; they’re about to hang themselves!” Xue Pan’s tone softened.
Xue Baochai put down her needlework and raised her eyes, which were as clear as water.
“I asked Shopkeeper Zhang.”
“The Zhen Family’s satin looks good, but it fades quickly. After about a month, the color dulls; it’s not as long-lasting as ours.”
Xue Pan slapped his thigh, “Then that settles it! We’ll spread the word! Say theirs is just for show, looks good but isn't practical!”
“It’s useless,” Xue Baochai shook her head.
“Why?”
“What’s fashionable now is novelty. Which young lady or Madam wears the same dress for a year or more? By the time they tire of it, the Zhen Family will have new styles out.”
Her words were like a basin of cold water poured over Xue Pan’s head.
“Then… then what do we do? Are we just supposed to watch them steal our livelihood?”
“What the Zhen Family is good at isn’t the styles,” Xue Baochai’s gaze seemed to pierce through the walls, seeing something deeper.
“It’s their dyes and their weaving techniques. I managed to procure a small piece of their ‘Misty Rain Gauze’; the material is as thin as fog, and even our Master craftsmen couldn't replicate it after half a month of study.”
Madam Xue looked worried, “What should we do? Perhaps… I should write to your Maternal Uncle and ask him to think of a solution in the Capital City?”
“Distant water cannot quench immediate thirst,” a trace of resolve emerged in Xue Baochai’s voice.
“Right now, there is only one path.”
“What path?” Madam Xue and Xue Pan asked in unison.
“Lower the price,” Xue Baochai uttered the two words.
“No!” Xue Pan immediately jumped up, “We are Imperial Merchants! Wouldn’t lowering prices diminish our status? How will we do business with official families later?”
“Brother,” Xue Baochai looked at him, “Status is status, business is business.”
“Our costs are fixed. If we lower them further, we’ll lose money!”
“Even if we lose money, we must sell,” Xue Baochai’s eyes turned cold.
“We can afford to lose; the Zhen Family might not.”
“Their foundation is unstable; they are entirely sustained by this momentum. As long as we can outlast them, the business in Jinling City will still be ours.”
Xue Pan was stunned. He looked at his sister and suddenly felt a sense of unfamiliarity.
Was this still the sister who read books and practiced embroidery in her private chambers?
This ruthless decisiveness was more like a man than he, a grown man.
“So… we’ll do it this way?”
“We will do it this way,” Xue Baochai picked up her needlework again. “We must lose first to earn later. The marketplace is like a battlefield; it’s either you die or I live.”
A few days later.
Feng Residence, small courtyard.
It was not yet dawn, but the courtyard was already brightly lit.
Feng Fang and Hou San were scurrying around like ants on a hot pan.
“Monkey boy, have you checked the charcoal in the Examination Basket properly? It must be the finest Silver Frost Charcoal; it burns without smoke, otherwise, if it fumes and bothers Young Master while he’s answering questions?”
Feng Fang muttered incessantly while packing exquisite pastries into a food container.
Hou San squatted on the ground, meticulously inspecting a bamboo Examination Basket.
“Uncle Fang, please rest assured! The brushes are two top-quality weasel-hair ones, the ink is freshly ground Huizhou ink, and the thermos is filled with warm ginseng tea. I even prepared an extra cushion for Young Master to sit on.”
“Oh, my little ancestor, be careful! Don’t bring anything you shouldn’t inside; that’s punishable by death!”
“I know, I know.”
As the two were frantically busy, the door to the Study Room creaked open.
Feng Yuan walked out.
He was wearing a dark-colored Scholar's Robe, his hair tied up with a simple wooden hairpin.
Standing there, he resembled a sword drawn from its sheath—cold and sharp.
He glanced at the two busy men.
“What’s all the noise?”
His voice wasn't loud, but it instantly silenced Feng Fang and Hou San, like chickens whose necks had been squeezed.
“Young Master…” Feng Fang wrung his hands, looking extremely nervous, “You… you check again, is anything missing?”
Feng Yuan didn't look at the Examination Basket; his gaze fell upon Hou San.
“Once I leave, lock the residence gates tightly.”
“Yes.”
“For Master Zhou, send the usual wine and meat.”
“Yes.”
“For Mr. Han, send this month’s tuition fee today.”
“Yes.”
He gave instructions one by one, clearly organized and devoid of any emotion, as if he were inspecting his own estate today, not heading to an examination.
Feng Fang and Hou San watched him, feeling an indescribable emotion.
The youth who had been beaten half to death six months ago had now become the backbone of this household.
His word was law.
“Is everything prepared?” Feng Yuan asked.
“Yes, yes!” Both men nodded quickly.
Feng Yuan walked over, picked up the Examination Basket, and weighed it in his hand.
“Too many pastries; take half out. Replace them with two Meat Patties.”
He turned and headed toward the door.
“Young Master!” Feng Fang hurried after him, “It’s still early; please eat some hot congee before you go!”
“No need.”
Feng Yuan’s steps did not falter.
“Do not linger near the examination hall entrance. Wait for me at the teahouse across the street.”
His retreating figure vanished into the thin morning mist.
The County Examination was held at the Examination Hall within the Prefecture Yamen.
As dawn was breaking, the entrance was already crowded with people.
There were Young Masters arriving in luxurious carriages, and also poor scholars carrying worn-out book satchels.
The air was filled with an atmosphere of tension and suppression.
Feng Yuan stood among the crowd, unremarkable.
He closed his eyes, regulating his breathing, shutting out the surrounding clamor.
Zhou Wu’s training had taught him how to instantly calm his mind in any noisy environment.
“Open the gates—”
Following a long command, the heavy gates of the Examination Hall slowly opened.
The examinees swarmed inside.
At the entrance stood a line of fierce-looking Soldiers.
Every examinee had to undergo a strict search.
The contents of the Examination Baskets were emptied one by one; even the Meat Patties had to be broken open for inspection.
The examinees themselves had to remove their outer robes, and even their Hair Buns had to be undone.
When it was Feng Yuan’s turn, a Soldier roughly grabbed his Examination Basket and dumped its contents onto the table.
Another Soldier reached out to untie his belt.
The search concluded; nothing was amiss.
Feng Yuan silently gathered his belongings, picked up the Examination Basket, and walked into the Examination Hall.
Inside the Examination Hall were rows of narrow Examination Cells.
Each Examination Cell was only about one *zhang* square, barely enough space for one person to turn around.
Feng Yuan found his number tag and stepped inside.
Inside, there was only a wooden board that served as a desk during the day and a bed at night.
He set down his Examination Basket, not rushing to arrange his writing implements.
He simply sat quietly, feeling the coldness and solitude of the cramped space.
He knew that from this moment, he would spend three days and two nights here.
These three days would be the first cornerstone on his path to revenge.
“Distribute the papers—”
Following another command, the examination papers were handed out.
Feng Yuan unfolded the paper.
There were three questions in total.
The first was Classics Exegesis: “Wealth and high status are what men desire; if they cannot be obtained through the proper way, one should not hold onto them.”
The second was Poetry. The topic was “Spring Breeze,” requiring one poem.
The third was a Policy Thesis: “Discuss the advantages and disadvantages of our dynasty’s Southern Grain Transport Route and northern shipments.”
A barely perceptible curve formed on Feng Yuan’s lips.
Han Anmeng certainly didn't have this kind of luck.
He slowly lifted his brush, saturating the tip with thick ink.
The tip touched the paper, making a light, rustling sound.
His handwriting was not delicate and round like that of ordinary scholars.
Every stroke carried a sense of metal and stone, a flavor of decisive action.
It was as if he wasn't writing, but carving with a knife.
He wrote extremely fast, yet with great steadiness.
He flowed smoothly, completing it in one breath.
After finishing the Policy Thesis, turning back to write the Classics Exegesis and the poem was effortless.
While other examinees were scratching their heads and racking their brains, he had already stopped writing.
He fanned the paper dry, folded it carefully, and placed it in the cover.
Then, he leaned against the cold wall and closed his eyes.