3 : The Eldest Son Of A Criminal Official Passed The Imperial Examination And Entered Officialdom

Chapter 3 

Even in June, Shuozhou had yet to enter summer.

The nights still carried a lingering chill.

Zhuo Siheng and Zhuo Huiheng lay against the edge of the bed, using a wooden board as their desk while practicing calligraphy.

Beside them, Zhuo Yan patiently corrected their strokes.

By now, both children's handwriting had begun to show the neatness that came with regular practice.

The more he looked at it, the more delighted he became.

Unable to resist himself, he kept reaching over to gently rub the tops of their heads.

Song Liangyu had caught a cold from the chilly wind the previous month and had overworked herself while pounding millet.

Even now, she had yet to fully recover.

From time to time, she would cough a few times.

Whenever Zhuo Yan heard it, he immediately got up to drape another layer of clothing over her and tuck the blankets more securely around her.

Ciheng was gradually becoming more sensible.

The moment she heard her mother coughing, she jumped off the bed and dashed out on her little legs.

She scooped some water from the storage jar, carried it over with a ladle, and handed it to Song Liangyu while imitating the words she'd often heard Zhuo Siheng say when caring for their mother.

"Mother, hurry and drink some. It'll help settle it."

Song Liangyu hugged Ciheng affectionately, repeatedly calling her her precious daughter.

Xiheng, meanwhile, copied his older sister's words, making everyone laugh with his childish imitation.

Even the sickly look on Song Liangyu's face improved considerably.

She had slept for most of the day.

Suddenly remembering something important, she turned to Zhuo Yan.

"Husband, while I was pounding grain today, the camp supervisor told me that something my younger sister entrusted to someone has finally arrived."

"Your younger sister? She actually managed to have something delivered all the way here?" Zhuo Yan looked genuinely surprised, though concern quickly followed. "I wonder how much silver she had to spend, and how many connections she had to rely on. I only hope she didn't get herself into trouble because of us. Although some time has passed since our family's case, if she or her husband's family ends up implicated because of this, how could we ever forgive ourselves?"

Song Liangyu let out a quiet sigh.

"Only a year after my younger sister married into the Fan family, my own family fell into disaster. The Fan family was probably afraid of being associated with us, so they wouldn't allow her to stay in contact with me. I can't blame them. I was also afraid she'd be just as stubborn as she was when we were children and insist on getting herself into trouble for my sake. Besides... I heard she'd already given birth to a son back then... We've been here for three years without exchanging a single message. I don't even know what my nephew was named... or how their family has been doing..."

Seeing Song Liangyu's eyes gradually redden and her voice begin to tremble, Zhuo Siheng worried that dwelling on these thoughts would only worsen her illness.

So he quickly changed the subject.

"If the Fan family wasn't necessarily willing to help, then how did Aunt manage to find someone to deliver things all the way here?"

Having lived nearly twenty years in his previous life, Zhuo Siheng understood at least a little about how the world worked.

A place of exile wasn't outside the law.

Messages and goods could still be sent there.

If a prisoner's relatives were willing to spend enough money and call in enough favors, they could send supplies to their exiled family members.

Of course, the items would inevitably be skimmed away little by little at every stage, leaving very little by the time they arrived.

His question wasn't really because he wanted an answer.

He simply wanted to steer the conversation elsewhere so Song Liangyu wouldn't sink deeper into sadness.

"Perhaps she asked my younger brother, Liangyong, to help." As expected, having something else to think about seemed to lift Song Liangyu's spirits somewhat. "Ever since my father passed away, the Song family hasn't been what it once was. My younger sister delayed her marriage while observing mourning, and after the mourning period ended, my younger brother was still too young and had to live with one of our clan uncles. By now... perhaps he's already passed the examinations and earned an official degree. That might explain how he was able to find someone willing to help."

"Your younger brother's talent is no less than Father-in-law's. He's certain to succeed in the imperial examinations," Zhuo Yan said as he walked over to inspect Siheng's and Huiheng's handwriting.

He corrected a few strokes before casually picking up the inkstone to check whether the ink had hardened.

It had become an ingrained habit.

Up until May, snow had still fallen regularly during Shuozhou's nights.

The ink would freeze solid inside the inkstone, making it impossible to write.

Back then, Zhuo Yan would tuck the inkstone inside his clothes against his chest, warming it with his body before handing it to the children.

Although it was no longer cold enough for that now, he still checked it unconsciously.

Watching this, Zhuo Siheng felt warmth spread through his heart.

Lost in thought, his brush paused.

Zhuo Yan was observant.

His eyes immediately caught the bruises and blisters running from the web between Siheng's thumb down across his palm.

He hurriedly asked,

"What happened to your hand?"

"I know!" Ciheng blurted out before anyone else could answer.

Quick-thinking and impatient by nature, she always loved being the first to speak.

"Big Brother got hurt drawing water from the well by the camp gate today!"

After saying that, she proudly added,

"His hand was all scraped up, and I was the one who bandaged it!"

"But the water jar was already full when we left this morning..." Song Liangyu moved closer and gently turned over Zhuo Siheng's hand.

Red and purple marks covered his palm.

Scabs had already begun to form.

Yet despite the pain, he had quietly continued practicing calligraphy.

Her heart ached at the sight.

She hurried to tear a strip of cloth from a cleaner piece of clothing and carefully wrapped his hand as she asked,

"Did you go fetch water for someone else's family?"

As the bandage brushed against the wound, Zhuo Siheng sucked in a sharp breath.

The pain was so intense that even his back tingled.

After a long pause, he finally answered,

"I was training my strength. I'm eleven years old now. In less than four years, I'll be old enough for labor duty. When that time comes, if I can't carry things on my shoulders, swing an axe, work in the mines, or fell trees, how will I survive?"

His reasoning was really that simple.

Surviving came first.

As an able-bodied male, Zhuo Siheng would be required to begin hard labor once he turned fifteen.

In Shuozhou's exile settlements, there were generally only four kinds of work:

Quarrying stone.

Mining iron ore.

Clearing mountains in the wilderness.

And logging and rafting timber downstream.

No one got to choose.

Whichever job they were assigned was the one they had to do.

All of them demanded grueling physical strength.

If one's body failed even a little...

It could very well become the place where they died.

His Third Uncle had collapsed from exhaustion while hauling broken stones.

The freezing weather of Shuozhou had done the rest.

Once he fell...

He never got back up again.

Building physical strength through exercise wasn't simply about staying healthy.

It was an immediate matter of survival.

Zhuo Siheng had no idea what the future would bring.

But one thing he understood clearly—

If he wanted to survive in Shuozhou under their current circumstances, a strong body was absolutely essential.

Not just for himself.

He had already begun planning to develop an effective training routine.

Once he proved it worked, he'd have his younger brother and sisters practice with him as well.

No matter what happened in the future, improving their health would never be a wasted effort.

Drawing water from the well with the hand-cranked winch was excellent training for arm strength.

But the bucket had no handle.

It was tied only with a rough hemp rope.

After just two trips, the rope rubbed his skin raw.

Fortunately, Zhuo Siheng had always been remarkably resilient, whether in studying or in life.

Gritting his teeth, he persevered.

Everything was perfectly clear in his own mind.

His goal was obvious.

His explanation was logical and reasonable.

Yet after hearing his words...

Both Zhuo Yan and Song Liangyu's eyes turned red.

At that moment, Ciheng piped up,

"Big Brother wants to become super strong! When I grow up, I want to become a doctor and cure Mother's and Sister's illnesses!"

"Silly little sister..."

Although Huiheng was only a little over eight years old, she was exceptionally mature for her age.

She understood why their parents had become so heartbroken.

She also knew that, though Ciheng's words were innocent and childlike, they were the warmest thing anyone could have said.

Slowly, tears welled up in her eyes.

...only then did they truly realize just how extraordinary it was.

Zhuo Yan's calligraphy possessed sharp strength and vigorous spirit.

The more Song Liangyu looked at it, the more she admired it.

Suddenly inspired by one of the lines in the poem, much of the sickly look on her face seemed to vanish.

With renewed energy, she turned to her husband and said, "Husband, why don't we use this poem to bestow a courtesy name upon Siheng?"

Zhuo Siheng was completely caught off guard.

He hadn't "read" many books yet, but Zhuo Yan had taught him classics such as Family Instructions of the Yan Clan.

One sentence from it had left a particularly deep impression on him: "A given name establishes one's identity; a courtesy name expresses one's virtue."

Because of that, boys were given their birth names as infants, but their courtesy names (字, zi) were traditionally bestowed only upon reaching adulthood.

A courtesy name was usually given by one's elders to complement the given name.

Many prominent scholarly families, out of respect for teachers and their devotion to learning, would even invite a child's tutor—or a renowned scholar acquainted with the family—to bestow it.

Yet he was still nearly half a lifetime away from coming of age.

Wasn't this a little too early?

Having read only a handful of books, Zhuo Siheng tended to interpret everything too rigidly according to what they said.

His father, Zhuo Yan, however, was a genuinely learned scholar of immense knowledge.

After only a brief moment's thought, all hesitation vanished from his heart.

Ignoring conventional customs entirely, he instead felt as though Heaven itself had arranged this moment.

To let it pass would be to go against destiny.

Rather than objecting, he clapped his hands in delight, praising his wife's thoughtful idea.

Looking once more at the poem he had written, understanding suddenly dawned upon him.

"I know exactly which two characters my dear wife has chosen for Siheng."

The husband and wife shared such a deep bond that they merely smiled at one another.

Each silently reached out and pointed.

Sure enough, both fingers landed upon the exact same two characters—

"Yunshan (云山)," from the line: "Let my heart roam freely among the clouds and mountains—how could such a path ever be lonely?"

And so, at the age of eleven, Zhuo Siheng received his courtesy name.

Zhuo Yunshan.

"Thank you, Father and Mother, for bestowing this courtesy name upon me."

Zhuo Siheng thought it sounded exceptionally beautiful.

Its meaning was wonderful as well.

He accepted it with a heart full of joy.

Just then...

A rapid series of loud knocks suddenly pounded against the door.

The warm, joyful atmosphere inside the room came to an abrupt halt.

In a labor camp, a knock at the door in the middle of the night rarely meant anything good.

The hut was so small that Zhuo Yan reached the entrance in only two steps.

When he opened the door... He froze.

"Greetings, Supervisor Zhu."

Even in exile... 

Even with unease weighing heavily on his heart...

Zhuo Yan's etiquette remained impeccable.

The slight bow he offered still carried the refined bearing of the scholar-official he had once been.

Previously, Zhu Tong had always assigned Zhuo Siheng to keep the camp's accounts.

However, wanting his son to devote as much time as possible to studying, Zhuo Yan usually calculated the figures himself before having Zhuo Siheng simply copy them neatly into the ledger.

One day, however, Zhuo Siheng had been so exhausted that he fell asleep early.

So Zhuo Yan completed the record himself.

Later, Zhu Tong noticed the difference in handwriting.

To his surprise, he didn't become angry.

Instead, he sought Zhuo Yan out and asked about it.

Having risen through the military ranks, Zhu Tong despised scholars who acted superior, flaunted their learning, and spoke in pretentious literary language.

Yet Zhuo Yan was nothing like that.

He neither wallowed in self-pity nor carried himself with the slightest arrogance.

The more the two men spoke, the better they got along.

Later on, Zhuo Yan even offered Zhu Tong some advice on how to conduct himself before his superiors—how to maintain his dignity without being overly submissive, while also protecting himself from unnecessary trouble.

That way, he wouldn't have to bottle up his frustrations, nor would he offend anyone.

Zhu Tong found the advice immensely useful.

From then on, he gradually stopped being the kind of person everyone in the camp disliked.

He had never truly been a villain to begin with.

He was simply a rough, straightforward man who paid little attention to manners.

From that point onward, however, he grew genuinely fond of Zhuo Yan, respecting both his real talent and his sincere, openhearted nature.

He also began looking after the entire Zhuo family whenever he could.

Zhu Tong had come calling in the middle of the night.

He carried a lantern in his hand. Although he stepped into the hut, he deliberately left the door open. Joy was written all over his face as he spoke in his usual booming voice.

"It's not just a greeting—it's... it's... good news!"

He had nearly said "a happy occasion" instead.

Only then did Zhuo Yan notice that the lantern was covered with white waxed paper, and a long strip of white mourning cloth was tied around Zhu Tong's waist.

Song Liangyu noticed it as well.

The husband and wife froze where they stood.

Their minds went completely blank.

Of the four children, one was fast asleep, while the other three looked at each other in confusion, having no idea what was happening.

Having both been born into official families and raised in the imperial capital, Zhuo Yan and Song Liangyu naturally knew exactly what Zhu Tong's attire signified.

Grasping Zhuo Yan's stiff hand, Zhu Tong lowered his voice and said,

"The late Emperor has passed away. The imperial proclamation announcing the new Emperor's ascension arrived in Shuozhou just tonight by express courier. I think the new reign title is... something like Zhenyuan... though that's not important! Brother Zhuo... my dear brother! The decree says... a general amnesty has been declared throughout the empire!"

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