After settling Lester into the academy, Clara took him into town to purchase a large supply of daily necessities and writing paper.

  They had already brought brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone from home. The additional paper was for Lester to copy past county-level exam questions—Clara planned to use them to create practice exams.

  Lester didn’t quite understand what she needed all the past questions for, but didn’t dare question her. He simply nodded and followed orders.

  “If we could get our hands on the answer sheets from the scholars who passed, that’d be even better. Be sure to copy everything down and bring it back to me every fortnight on your rest days,” Clara reminded.

  Lester frowned. “That’s not so easy. Why would a scholar share such things with someone like me?”

  Clara stopped walking, folded her arms, and narrowed her eyes. “How much silver do you want this time?”

  At the mention of “silver,” his eyes lit up like a lantern. He immediately shifted to a flattering tone, counting on his fingers:

  “I’ll need to treat those scholars to decent wine and food. You’ve seen the inns here—cheapest meal still costs five or six silver coins. Add in regular social niceties, perhaps a few borrowed books or a meat bun here and there...”

  “One tael a month should just about cover it.”

  He braced himself for her to slash the amount in half—or down to a single coin, if she was in a bad mood.

  To his shock, Clara pulled out a full tael from her money pouch and tossed it to him.

  “Next rest day, I expect results. If you come back empty-handed,” she said with a cruel smile, “you’d better not come home at all. Go be a wandering beggar. Otherwise, I’ll make sure you die by my blade!”

  With that one tael, plus the five silver coins they’d just spent on supplies, and the fees for tuition and lodging, half of the profits from the water mill business were already gone.

  They now had only 14 taels and 2 silver coins left in reserve—three of which were still locked in the mill’s operating funds.

  It was painfully clear: for a commoner household with an annual net income of only two to four taels, pursuing scholarly success was a faraway dream.

  At the academy gate, Clara handed over the supplies and reminded Lester, “The rice harvest starts mid-month. Combine that with your rest days and take a few extra days off to help me finish it.”

  “What? I still have to work in the fields?” Lester looked stunned.

  Clara said nothing, but the message was obvious: You think being a student means no more farm work?

  Until he earned a title, Lester was still just another muddy-footed farmer—and farmers harvest.

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  “But... what if the instructor doesn’t grant me leave?” he asked, clinging to hope.

  Clara crushed that hope without blinking. “During planting and harvest season, students are automatically given two extra days off to help at home.”

  “How do you know?” he asked, doubtful.

  She shot him a look of disdain. “I can tell you weren’t listening properly when the dorm supervisor explained it. Go ask again if you don’t believe me. I’m leaving.”

  Lester should’ve been overjoyed at her departure, but for some reason, her leaving left him anxious—like the floor had been yanked out from under him. He quickly stepped forward, calling after her.

  “Where are you going? It’s getting late—you won’t make it home today.”

  Clara glanced at the dusky sky and waved him off. “I have my own place to stay. Just worry about your studies.”

  He stood there like a stray dog, watching her disappear down the street, arms full of supplies and anxiety slowly rising. It was only when she vanished from sight that he turned and stepped nervously through the academy gates.

  Just thinking about the tasks looming over him killed any trace of joy.

  Fifteen days—why did the academy have to set rest days every two weeks instead of monthly?

  But when he saw his roommates relaxing under the eaves, brewing tea and chatting casually, his spirits lifted.

  It was simply his nature—he couldn’t help but prioritize pleasure over stress. Those old exam questions? They could wait. He was finally free from that demon of a wife—time to enjoy it for a few days!

  Lester was soon laughing and sipping tea under the moonlight with his new classmates, already fitting in as if they'd known him for years.

  Meanwhile, Clara was still wandering the city looking for a place to stay the night.

  There was no curfew in the county town, but since it wasn’t a festival or market day, most townsfolk had already gone home to eat and rest. The streets were mostly empty.

  As she walked, she found herself in front of the familiar tavern.

  She looked up—and so did the man behind the counter.

  They locked eyes. Manager Fan blinked in surprise, then rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. Recognizing her, he rushed out from behind the counter, beaming.

  “Is that you, Miss Clara?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Manager Fan. Long time no see.”

  And it really had been a long time—almost a full year.

  Clara hadn’t expected him to remember her, let alone know what she’d been up to. But Manager Fan claimed he’d heard about her “big moment” earlier that year.

  “What big moment?” she asked, puzzled.

  The tavern only had two tables occupied—quiet for the evening, but typical. It wasn’t like a rare black bear showed up every day.

  Manager Fan pulled out a chair and invited Clara to sit in a quiet corner. He asked what she’d like to eat, instructed the server to bring it, then poured her a cup of tea himself before sitting across from her with a grin.

  “That bandit leader,” he said. “The one who got shot? That was you, wasn’t it?”

  That event hadn’t been widely publicized, and Clara was curious. “How did you know?”

  Manager Fan gave her a knowing smile. “On New Year’s Eve, when someone ran to report a bandit attack, I overheard them mention Liew Clan Village near Goldstone Town. I immediately suspected it was your village. Later, I heard officers mention that not only had your village survived the raid, someone even shot down the escaping bandit leader.”

  He leaned forward proudly. “I thought—who else could pull that off but you?”

  Clara gave a small nod just as the waiter brought over a bowl of lamb soup and white buns, along with a side of tangy pickled cucumbers—enough to make anyone’s mouth water.

  She dug in, listening as Manager Fan continued.

  “You should’ve come to the county office to claim your reward,” he said.

  The Sheng Empire had clear laws: citizens who killed robbers in self-defense could not only avoid punishment—they could claim a bounty. One tael for a thief, two for a bandit. If someone eliminated an entire group of bandits, they could even be appointed a junior clerk at the county office.

  These clerical positions, while not official titles, were still paid by the government and highly sought-after among commoners.

  Everyone knew—while magistrates came and went every three years, the clerks in the office were permanent fixtures. Even the magistrate had to show them some respect.

  Especially when those clerks held power over the day-to-day workings of the office.

  (End of Chapter)

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