Chapter 29: The Impoverished Scholar on His Way to the Examination

Late that night, Lu Xin descended from Tianfeng Mountain, and before leaving, he destroyed the mechanism at the entrance of the Niu family’s ancestral tomb. Even if Niu Ercheng discovered a problem with the family’s geomancy in the future, it would be nearly impossible to unravel. As for the body of Wuyouzi, Lu Xin quietly returned it to Jiuyang Temple. The old priest’s disciples would naturally tend to his funeral affairs; there was no need for Lu Xin to worry.

After leaving the mountain, Lu Xin commandeered Old Liu’s horse cart and headed straight for Hangzhou. Tian Yuer had already been buried in the Niu family’s ancestral grave; according to the geomantic principles of the “Scripture of Virtuous Burial,” her body would draw away the Niu family’s fortune. If she had descendants, they would surely rise to great heights. Unfortunately, as Tian Gui had said, apart from Tian Yuer, the Tian family had no other surviving bloodline.

Lu Xin’s actions served two purposes: first, to punish the overbearing Niu family, and second, to protect Tian Gui and all the tea farmers of Lion Peak Mountain. If both Niu Ercheng and Tian Yuer died at the same time, the Niu household would certainly vent their wrath upon Lion Peak Mountain. But as long as Niu Ercheng remained alive, no one would know of Tian Yuer’s fate, for even a fool would not proclaim to the world that he had killed his newly wedded fourteenth concubine.

When Lu Xin returned to Lion Peak Mountain, Tian Gui had already regained consciousness, though he was still bedridden. Lu Xin brewed tea himself to take his leave. The mountain folk were all concerned for Tian Yuer, but Lu Xin assured them everything was fine and bid them not to worry.

“Ah, Xin, I’ve troubled you again,” Tian Gui said, holding his teacup with both hands and trying to sit up. The youth quickly stood to stop him.

“Grandpa Tian, you have always treated me like your own. There’s no need for formality. Besides, the tea’s prosperity today is all thanks to your hard work. Without you, I’d never have been able to break free and journey to Chang’an.”

“I’ve spent my whole life growing and picking tea, all my thoughts devoted to it. Sometimes I wonder, if only I had been more useful, perhaps my children would not all have died in vain.”

“The burden of war is not your fault. Grandpa, focus on recovering and don’t worry. I’ve already entrusted the tea business to Manager He. From now on, Lion Peak Mountain will trade exclusively with the Xu family. Rest easy. It’s getting late; I must leave the mountain now. Please take care of yourself.”

With these words, Lu Xin took a deep breath and turned to walk out. To him, Lion Peak Mountain was dearer than even the Xu residence—it was, besides Xiaoxi Town, his second home. But now, he no longer wished to stay. Some painful memories are best kept from sight.

“Xin, is Yuer… is she well at the Niu household?” As the youth reached the door, Tian Gui could not help but call out. Lu Xin paused, gazing at the rolling tea fields beyond, his eyes stinging with tears. But he gave no reply—just nodded gently, then vanished into the boundless mountains.

Perhaps it was the season of spring, or perhaps the impending imperial examinations—there were crowds on the official road outside Hangzhou: men and women, young and old, walking, riding, hauling goods, a ceaseless stream. Lu Xin was unfamiliar with the area outside Hangzhou, so he followed the government road. Fortunately, he was in no hurry; sometimes he rode, sometimes walked, finding a certain pleasure in the journey.

The main road outside Hangzhou led straight to Xuanzhou, then looped through Jingzhou, before heading north to Chang’an. This was the safest overland route to the capital. If speed was of the essence, the Grand Canal was more convenient—one could board a boat in Hangzhou, travel north past Yangzhou to Bianzhou, then west to Chang’an. But Lu Xin disliked water travel: boats were inconvenient, and bad weather could easily strand one. Overland, he could enjoy the scenery and experience the customs of the Tang realm—insights that would aid his swordsmanship and understanding of the Way of the Sword.

He traveled slowly, sometimes riding, sometimes walking, covering barely a league a day. Each night he stayed at an inn, practicing his sword. By his reckoning, at this pace, it would take at least two months to reach Chang’an. Roads in the Tang dynasty were nothing like modern highways—no tunneling through mountains or spanning rivers with bridges. Even the best official roads were bumpy; when it rained, even the horses struggled through the mud.

Seven days later, Lu Xin was riding along a rough mountain path. The way was narrow—barely two meters wide—with a sheer drop on the right. His horse walked slowly, hugging the grassy edge. He was still seventy or eighty li from Xuanzhou, but dusk was falling and his water supply was nearly gone.

“The map says there should be a small town nearby. If I just get past it, I’ll be back on the main road. Why can’t I find the way down the mountain after all this time?”

On horseback, Lu Xin pulled out a leather map, frowning. He’d spent a day and a night among the mountains—he was exhausted, as was his horse. Yet from the messy hoof and footprints on the ground, he was sure he hadn’t gone astray. Drinking the last drop from his flask, Lu Xin felt hungry. Just as he was about to eat some dry rations in the saddle, his horse suddenly stumbled. He quickly reined it in and looked ahead—a long slope led down to a broad flat at the base of the mountain.

Xuanzhou had always been a military stronghold; in the Tang, like Shanyin County, it was home to a governor’s office. In modern terms, Xuanzhou borders Hangzhou and Huzhou to the east, sits south of Huangshan, northwest of Wuhu, and northeast of Nanjing and Wuxi—right at the northwestern edge of the Shanghai-Nanjing-Hangzhou triangle. Lu Xin had heard from Xu Sanjin that Xuanzhou was the key passage from Jiangnan to the west.

His horse was young and had never traversed mountains before leaving Yuezhou. On the descent, it stumbled badly, so Lu Xin dismounted and led it by hand. As he reached the flatland, dark clouds sank behind the peaks and the wind whipped up yellow dust everywhere. Judging by the sky, Lu Xin knew a heavy rain was coming and grew uneasy.

Fortunately, the road widened and smoothed out at the bottom. Ahead was a dense forest, stretching as far as the eye could see, from which came the sounds of carriages and horses—clearly, many travelers passed through. Lu Xin walked on for five more minutes. Suddenly, thunder rumbled in the deep clouds, and a downpour followed.

“What’s that?”

As he entered the woods, he saw a clearing ahead, where someone had set up a tea stall. Lu Xin quickly led his horse over. There was a canopy above the stall, just right for sheltering from the rain. Parched and hungry, he was eager to rest and replenish his supplies.

Perhaps because it was late, the large tea stall was nearly empty. Of seven or eight tables, only five people sat, scattered here and there—four men and one woman, all common travelers from the look of their dress. Noticing the sword Lu Xin carried, they each kept their heads down, silently sipping tea, none speaking.

Lu Xin paid them no mind, ordering two large bowls of water and a plate of braised beef, eating and drinking quietly. Outside, the mountain winds howled, and fat raindrops fell through the branches, quickly turning the road to mud. Though the rain was heavy, it would not last; Lu Xin was not afraid to travel at night. The sound of wind and rain, and the cooling tea, made for a pleasant respite.

“Sir, I’ve run this tea stall on Black Tiger Ridge for over ten years, serving countless travelers, but this is the first time someone hasn’t paid for their tea. This is a small business—please, don’t make things hard for me.”

At a nearby table, the tea stall owner was suddenly in a heated argument with someone. Lu Xin looked over. A young scholar, face flushed with shame, was being berated by the proprietor. The scholar wore plain linen clothes—clean, but so cheap that his poverty was obvious.

Ordinarily, a scholar heading to the capital for the exams would at least buy himself a fine robe. The colorful silk from Hangzhou was famous for its comfort and elegance, and affordable to boot.

Though the scholar boasted he would succeed in the exams, he could not even afford decent clothes, prompting only scorn from the tea seller.

“How can you be so stubborn? Just one copper coin—do you really think I would break my word? I, Tu Chengli, learned to read at five and have studied the classics for twelve years. In Yin County, who doesn’t know my character?”

“Enough boasting. I’m closing up soon. Come with me down the mountain and we’ll settle this at the magistrate’s office. Don’t blame me for not warning you—my elder brother works there and can’t stand petty scoundrels like you.”

The tea stall owner had no patience for the scholar’s ramblings. With a dark face, he grabbed the young man’s arm. Though the scholar was handsome and fair, he was frail and barely stood five foot seven, and he cried out in pain. The owner ignored him and dragged him toward the path, scaring the scholar pale.

“Wait. I’ll pay his tea.”

Just as the scholar was about to be hauled away, Lu Xin flicked a copper coin, landing it squarely in the stall owner’s pocket. The owner looked up at the youth, noticed the sword wrapped in cloth at his table, and snorted before finally releasing the scholar’s arm.