Song Shixue sat to the side, covering her mouth as she fought off sleepiness, her eyes watering as she yawned widely.
Song Anhao, who had long been sleeping soundly on the bed, turned over, burying her pouty lips and head into the bedding.
"Jinzhao, could you lend me some money? I'll pay you back as soon as we return to the village."
Seeing him finally spit it out after much hesitation, Song Jinzhao asked in return, "How much do you need to borrow?"
If Scholar Zheng hadn't come, Song Dazhuang would have most likely taken Song Gaoli home.
But Scholar Zheng had come, offering such a good opportunity. The moment Song Gaoli agreed, she had thought of the financial strain in Song Dazhuang's household.
Even though the village chief's family was the best-off in Song Family Village aside from Master Zhao, supporting a scholar was still a significant burden, leaving little room for ease.
Song Dazhuang unconsciously rubbed the hem of his clothes, worried that borrowing too little wouldn't be enough, while borrowing too much would be impossible to repay.
"Lend me five taels of silver first. After we rent a place, I'll find some work outside. We should be able to manage for three months."
Song Jinzhao didn't hesitate. She reached down, untied the money pouch from her waist, took out five taels of silver, and handed it to Song Dazhuang.
"There's no rush to repay it. We're from the same village; I trust you, Uncle Dazhuang."
Those who barely manage to pass the exams usually have good luck. Perhaps after three months of guidance from a renowned teacher, Song Gaoli might even pass the imperial examination for the xiucai degree.
Song Dazhuang visibly relaxed as he walked out of the room, the silver clasped in his hand.
If he couldn't borrow the money, he was afraid he wouldn't even have enough to rent a place.
Seven hundred li away in Song Family Village, Song Mancang was pacing back and forth at the village entrance, hands clasped behind his back.
He wondered how the exam went. Could they have passed the prefectural exam?
By his reckoning, they should be back by now.
Seeing Old Man Song sit down on the stone by the door and stand up again for the third time, Oldest Song couldn't help but speak up, "Father, the private school is closed for the entire fourth month. They won't be back until at least the end of the month; it's too early now."
Old Man Song's face was gloomy, his whole demeanor radiating worry.
"I just don't know how Qiming did on the exam. It would be good to get some news in advance."
Oldest Song comforted him, "Don't worry, Father. Qiming seemed quite confident. Even Scholar Zheng was full of praise for him. He'll definitely pass the prefectural exam."
Early the next morning, Song Jinzhao first went to the street to buy gifts for the visit. At the hour of Si, Scholar Zheng led the three families to Ye Liangyu's home, which was surprisingly located less than a quarter-hour's walk from Anyang Academy.
The modest two-courtyard house was laid out in an open, spacious manner, its blue tiles and white walls appearing exceptionally elegant.
A small pond against the wall in the courtyard housed several crimson koi, their tails swaying and shimmering with iridescent colors.
What caught Song Jinzhao's attention was the unusually large window in the main hall. Its lowest point reached knee-height, making it perilously easy to stumble and fall straight into the pond from the window.
Led by a servant into the hall and seated, they found a massive bamboo screen dividing the space into two sections.
"Brother Zheng, bring the three of them in." The voice was slow and deep, like a stone dropped into a ten-thousand-meter abyss failing to stir even a ripple.
Song Jinzhao's brows furrowed slightly. This Master Ye's voice lacked any vitality, carrying a lifeless quality, like that of a man on his last breath.
Yet Scholar Zheng had said the man was about his own age, likely only in his fifties.
Song Qiming, Song Gaoli, and Wei Qianliang followed behind Scholar Zheng around the screen. Upon seeing the man seated in the chair, all three froze in place, their pupils trembling slightly, disbelief flickering in their eyes.
The man reclining in the chair wore a loose, dark blue scholar's robe. His features were refined and scholarly, but his aura resembled withered, dead wood. His eyes were vacant, lacking focus.
What astonished them was his head of white hair, cascading over his shoulders like snow or frost, as if it were his natural color.
Ye Liangyu's distant gaze fell upon the three young men, his thoughts involuntarily drifting back over thirty years.
He had been just as young when he passed the imperial examination for the xiucai degree. Alas, time flew like a shuttle, completely submerging the path he had once taken.
"Before the academy examination, come to this old man's place daily at the hour of Chen. You may return home at noon. The foremost principle in studying is to understand reason and rectify the heart..."
Listening to the profound words from behind the screen, which seemed to carry the weight of countless mountains and rivers, Song Dazhuang scratched his head, finding them bitter and difficult to comprehend.
Song Jinzhao picked up the tea from the table and took a small sip. She could tell this man had once served as an official in the court. His words always held hidden meanings; delving too deep could turn even good intentions into faults.
Wei Qianliang's father pointed subtly at the screen, his words almost soundless, as if they would scatter with a breeze.
"Does he not intend to meet us?"
Song Jinzhao gave a slight shake of her head, signaling him not to speak.
She guessed it was likely due to an ailment in his legs that he did not wish to be seen.
After speaking for nearly a quarter of an hour, Ye Liangyu finally raised his voice slightly, saying, "That is all for today. Come on time tomorrow. You may take your families and leave now."
Song Qiming and the other two exchanged glances, then bowed with hands clasped, saying, "Thank you, Master Ye. We will return tomorrow."
Scholar Zheng stole a glance at the legs concealed beneath Ye Liangyu's robe and sighed inwardly.
He signaled with his eyes for the three young men to leave first, as he intended to stay a while longer.
After leaving the Ye residence, Song Dazhuang immediately grabbed Song Gaoli's sleeve and asked, "What do you think of that Master Ye?"
Not having said a word for so long had nearly suffocated him.
Song Gaoli thought for a moment and replied, "He looks much older than Scholar Zheng. His hair is completely white, not a trace of black to be seen."
Song Qiming looked up and met Song Jinzhao's eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he spoke.
"I don't think it's just age. It seems more like what the books describe as 'hair turning white overnight.' He seems utterly listless, as if burdened by many troubles, unable to even muster a smile."
