Chapter Sixty-Six: Chun Ge’er, Don’t Cry

Luzhou City sits at the confluence of the Yangtze and Tuo Rivers, nestled among mountains and waters, blessed with natural beauty and spiritual vitality. It has long served as the gateway from Chu to Shu, renowned since ancient times for its bustling commerce and flourishing education.

Along the riverbank, the stone city walls wind like a belt, rising as high as five zhang. The city gate of Ningguang stands tall and majestic, exuding an extraordinary aura.

Outside the city, at the Guanyizui Wharf, masts crowd the sky like a forest. Porters load and unload salt, wine, and mountain goods day and night. The river breeze carries their shouts and the clamor, injecting endless vitality into the ancient city.

Within the city, the population is a hundred times denser than in Taiping Town. On the broad, flagstone streets, shops line both sides in a continuous row, and merchants and travelers jostle shoulder to shoulder.

To the south, atop Brushrest Mountain, stands Crane Mountain Academy, built against the slope with flying eaves hidden among ancient pines, enjoying a rare tranquility.

At the foot of Brushrest Mountain lies a humble row of houses, prepared by the academy for students who come to take the prefectural and academy exams, known as “Moon Awaiting Cottage.”

Before the prefectural examination in early April, the cottage was packed with over two hundred young scholars, bustling with life. But now, with the results posted days ago and the next exam far off, most students have returned home, and the place is once again deserted, with hardly a soul in sight for half a day.

Yet, faint coughing could be heard from the easternmost room.

Through the half-open door, one could see a pallid young man lying on a communal bed, covered in the robes of Taiping Academy—it was none other than the eldest grandson of the Su family, Chun-ge’er.

At this moment, Su Man’s eyes were dull, his spirit haggard; where was the elegant figure of days past? He was more like a withered vine or an ancient tree...

He had been wound too tight, not resting even during the New Year. His body was already at its limit, sustained only by the burning desire to succeed in the exam.

But when the prefectural exam results were posted, his name was absent. The blow was too much for Su Man to bear. He knew the exam was difficult, but he had been third in the county exam! In his mind, he had performed well—if not at the top, he should at least have scraped through...

The crushing disappointment instantly extinguished the fire within his heart. He couldn’t withstand it; after viewing the results, he lay down fully clothed and fell ill that very night. He had planned to return home the next day, but now he couldn’t even manage that.

He was aloof, sharp-tongued, and had few friends, primarily because friendship cost money and he was both poor and proud, so he always kept to himself.

Usually, this was no great trouble, but falling ill in a strange town made things difficult. He asked a fellow student to send word home and forced himself to fetch medicine from the city, then pleaded with the elderly caretaker to help decoct it.

He had been drinking medicine for days, but saw no improvement...

Now, Chun-ge’er lay stiff and motionless on the empty communal bed, staring at the tattered cobwebs on the ceiling, swaying in the wind, feeling as if his own life, like those cobwebs, was nearing its end...

The red list of exam results danced before his eyes, every name stabbing into his heart like a needle, filling him with anguish... Why wasn’t I on it? I began my studies at seven, endured ten bitter years, tying my hair to a beam to stay awake, copying books until the rooster crowed, the calluses on my palms thicker than the moss on the academy’s stone steps—why couldn’t I earn a place on that list?

And this was only the prefectural exam...

He touched the academy’s old robe covering him. The original black collar had long since worn thin, and his mother had sewn on a new one to match the old. By now, his family must have received the news. His parents were likely worried sick, and his grandparents and brothers too, surely anxious.

At least Jinbao was still young and wouldn’t worry about him. But she might have already forgotten her useless older brother...

Then again, perhaps the letter hadn’t even reached home yet, with the mountain roads so unpredictable. His family might still be awaiting news of his success, preparing, as before, to host a celebratory banquet.

But he had let them down... Still, if he died of illness, there would be a feast after all.

If only he had passed as a licentiate, his parents would have been so pleased, and his grandfather’s long-held resentment would have been released.

He could have shown off before Qiu-ge’er, leaving the boy speechless in awe.

He could have lifted the Su family’s head before the Cheng family and perhaps reclaimed the Langquan Well; then Su’s Wine Shop would be saved, and the livelihood of their clansmen secured.

But now, it was all empty hope—his fault, a sinner...

Su Man was heartbroken, feeling as if the very Ming Dynasty might collapse because of him.

To soothe his pain, he fished a small piece of sesame brittle from his bundle—a treat his mother had pressed into his hand before he left Hejiang for Luzhou, one he’d been reluctant to finish.

Chun-ge’er put the black-and-white sesame brittle to his lips, bit off a small piece, and chewed slowly, but it yielded only two lines of hot tears.

He could hold back no longer, and sobbing with a mouthful of crumbs, he cried out, “Mother, I want to go home…”

~~

As Su Man wept bitterly, a sudden darkness fell before his eyes.

His sobs ceased abruptly. Slowly, he rolled his eyes to look, and saw his father, second uncle, younger uncle, along with Xia-ge’er and Qiu-ge’er—four grown men and a boy crowded in the doorway, all staring at him in astonishment.

“It must be a hallucination from longing for home…” Su Man closed his eyes, and sure enough, the vision vanished.

“It’s an illusion…” But when he opened them again, it was even darker—the five figures were still there, and had all entered, standing before his bed with deep concern.

His father reached out, gently touched his son’s head, and said softly, “Chun-ge’er, don’t cry, your family is here now…”

“So tired, let the world end…” Su Man shut his eyes, wishing to slip away quietly.

Unbeknownst to him, a ring of black sesame seeds clung to his cheek, like a newly sprouted beard.

Pitiful, yet rather amusing…

Fortunately, the men all knew Chun-ge’er was sensitive and held back their laughter. They were here to visit, not mock him, though it was hard not to laugh…

“This child has suffered enough out here,” his father sighed, then told Su Youtai, “Quick, check him—can he be all right?”

Su Youtai sat by the bed, took up the thin arm, and began to feel his pulse.

Since ancient times, scholars and physicians have never been separate; old scholars like Su Youtai generally know some medicine. When Su Lu once suffered heatstroke, it was he who prescribed the remedy...

Well, at the very least, he could take a pulse.

With three fingers pressed to Su Man’s wrist, Su Youtai concentrated for a moment, then slowly withdrew his hand and said, “The pulse is floating and rootless, rapid and unstable—a cold trapped at the surface. It’s sometimes hesitant, and skips with coughing—evil chi is strong, but hasn’t entered the lungs. With timely care, there’s no great danger.

“Mm-hmm.” His father breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank Heaven.”

But Su Youtai paused and added, “Besides, the pulse is slow and light throughout, indicating long-term hunger and deficiency of qi and blood. In plain terms, he’s starving.”

“You can tell that from his pulse?” The others were deeply impressed.

“No, I heard it.” Before Su Youtai had finished, Su Man’s stomach rumbled again.

Chun-ge’er blushed deeply; the bite of sesame brittle had only sharpened his hunger, now rumbling uncontrollably.

‘Ugh, I hate sesame brittle—never again…’

“Knowing you’re hungry is a good sign!” his father said, delighted. “It means you’re getting better!”

He looked around and asked, “Who has food?”

Su Tai produced some dry rations from his pack.

“Put that away—his stomach’s too weak for sorghum cakes,” said his younger uncle, taking a bag of roasted rice from his satchel. He fetched hot water from the door attendant and brewed a rice tea for Chun-ge’er.

~~

This time, Su Youtai made no mistake—Su Man indeed had a cold. With dozens sleeping in one room, a cough or fever easily spread. Add exhaustion and disappointment, and it had become a severe illness, leaving him convinced he was dying…

Whether it was the medicine or the joy of seeing his family, Su Man could finally eat again. After a bowl of rice tea, he felt strength returning to his limbs.

His father and uncles went out to buy more medicine and supplies, while Su Tai and Su Lu stayed with him.

Chun-ge’er finally crawled out from his despair and asked, “How did you come?”

“The moment we heard you were ill, we set out that night. On the way, we stopped at Younger Uncle’s house for a meal, and he joined us,” Su Tai replied.

“But that doesn’t add up—my classmate left on the second day, yet you arrived on the sixth. How?” Chun-ge’er counted on his fingers, finding something amiss. They’d come too quickly, or he wouldn’t have been caught unprepared…

“That senior was a true gentleman—he didn’t stop at all, and made it to Erlangtan in three days,” Su Lu explained. “We were even more anxious and hurried straight through in two days. If my father hadn’t slowed us, we’d have been here half a day earlier.”

“Wait, you covered two hundred li of mountain roads in less than two days?” Su Man stared, dumbfounded, at his younger brothers, whose faces were gray with dust, their clothes stained with sweat and dirt.

“We did,” Su Tai confirmed with a nod.

“How did you manage that?” Su Man asked in astonishment.

“We walked day and night, resting only three hours along the way.” Su Tai counted on his fingers, then added, “Surprisingly, Qiu-ge’er was the fastest.”

“I’m light on my feet and walk twenty li every day to school—used to it,” Su Lu said with a smile.

“What are you doing here?” At the mention of school, Chun-ge’er sobered, and his face darkened. “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“I had Su Dan ask the teacher for leave,” Su Lu replied.

“How many days will this round trip take? How much will you miss? Can you keep up?” Chun-ge’er scolded gruffly.

“I was worried about you,” Su Lu answered quietly.

Chun-ge’er couldn’t scold him further. After a pause, he muttered, “What is there to worry about?”

“I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again—that you wouldn’t make it through,” Su Lu replied.

Su Tai also spoke up, “He’s right, big brother, don’t scold Qiu-ge’er. He never even skips class for a fever, but nothing could stop him coming this time.”

“Now you’ve seen me—I’m fine. All that worry for nothing…” Chun-ge’er’s nose prickled, and he turned away, gazing at the cobweb in the corner.

He saw a stubborn spider working tirelessly to mend its web, determined to spin a net larger and stronger than before…