With Foreman Qiu’s help and the merchant convoy’s cart, Clara and Lester Liew arrived at Willowridge County Town by noon.

  They parted ways at the city gate—the caravan didn’t stop and continued toward their destination.

  Still, the frown on Foreman Qiu’s face never quite faded, weighed down by the lingering threat of bandits in the area.

  He had escorted this shipment all the way from Highpeak Province in the west and was planning to travel through the Province of Jadebriar to reach the capital in the east. But now, barely a third into the journey, one of his crates had already been stolen due to the local bandits. It was hard not to be dispirited.

  Before leaving, however, he handed Clara a gourd filled with seeds and said with a smile, “These are seeds of a fruit called cooling gourd. In the summer, the nobility in the capital adore it. It used to be reserved exclusively for the Imperial Farms—commoners weren’t allowed to grow it, so prices remained sky-high. In fact, it cost ten taels of silver just to get in line for a slice.”

  “But the summer heat has been brutal, and the Crown Princess took pity on the people. She petitioned His Majesty to open the Imperial Farms and distribute these seeds to the common folk.”

  At this, Foreman Qiu gazed eastward, and the weight on his brow finally seemed to lift. “Next summer, even ordinary people will get to enjoy the cooling taste of these gourds.”

  “She’s such a benevolent royal,” Lester sighed in admiration, cradling the gourd of seeds.

  Clara, on the other hand, suspected that this so-called “cooling gourd” might just be watermelon.

  Watermelon… When was the last time she had one? Probably even before the apocalypse struck in her previous life.

  The memory was hazy from how long ago it had been, but she felt a swell of anticipation at the thought of planting the seeds next spring and seeing what kind of fruit they might yield.

  The wonton stall at the city gate was still there, and business was as brisk as ever. Clara ordered four bowls—three for herself, one for Lester—and they filled up before heading off. With afternoon classes about to begin at the academy, the two bought a small gift for the teacher and made their way toward the school.

  It was Clara’s first time visiting, so she had Lester lead the way.

  Though he had acted calm on the road, standing in front of the academy gates now made Lester hesitate.

  He glanced around, hoping to spot someone older than him.

  No luck. Only two families from town were present, each bringing a child of seven or eight to enroll.

  Willowridge’s official academy was the only one in the county and fairly sizable. Admissions were handled by dedicated staff.

  So those fanciful tales of a poor scholar catching the eye of a master and going on to pass the imperial exam? Pure fiction. In reality, the academy had only a handful of teachers and a sea of students. Unless you were an exceptional standout, a renowned teacher wouldn’t even glance your way.

  This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

  Here, the model was “free-range learning”: the teacher opens the door; it’s up to the student to walk through it.

  Lester said he had studied here before. The registrar looked at him for a long time.

  Then shook his head. “No memory of you.”

  Still, seeing someone of Lester’s age return to enroll did earn him a few extra glances—especially with that handsome face.

  The two boys nearby craned their necks to peer at him, giggling to themselves for some reason. One finally got a flick to the forehead from his parent, straightening up quickly.

  Admission wasn’t just a matter of paying tuition; they had to vet three generations of your family background.

  Clara had anticipated this and gotten a letter from the village chief. They passed that checkpoint easily.

  Next came a character assessment.

  The teacher posed a few moral questions to test the students’ values.

  Getting through the first part was easy. This part required answering based on standard “model” responses.

  Lester had been through this before. Back then, he had memorized those model answers religiously, and the questions hadn’t changed a word. He breezed through.

  The two boys beside him had clearly studied too, but being so young, they stammered their way through. With some whispered hints from their parents, they scraped by.

  Since they lived in town, the boys were sent elsewhere to register for classes.

  Lester, however, would be living at the academy, so they paid an additional lodging and meal fee.

  The academy had its own kitchen and a matron who prepared two meals a day for students.

  If you wanted three meals, you had to cook for yourself.

  The boarding and food costs had gone up—about 50 copper coins more than what Clara had previously been quoted. Total annual cost: one tael and one coin of silver.

  Dorms were shared rooms, six people to a space—not very spacious, but with good lighting. Clara found it acceptable.

  They took Lester’s enrollment tag to the housing supervisor, who assigned him to a room that currently had only three other students.

  Most students were in the front building attending class, so the room was empty. One look at the hygiene and Lester wrinkled his nose.

  He used to sleep like a pig in a sty without complaint. But now? It was all that harpy Clara’s fault! Her obsession with cleanliness had turned him into a delicate flower who couldn’t even stand the smell of stinky feet!

  Clara, facing the other way as she picked a bed, didn’t notice his disgruntled expression. If she had, he’d definitely be in for a beating.

  “This one’s good, in the corner. Quieter,” she said, tossing his bedding onto the innermost bed.

  Still treating him like a freshman, she instructed, “The two middle beds are empty. Until they’re filled, you and your roommates can use them to store extra stuff. That way, you’ll have a little personal space.”

  “Weird. No stove in here, and the kitchen doesn’t seem to provide hot water. Do they never wash their hair or bathe? Whatever, I’ll get you a small boiler and a wash basin later.”

  Hearing this, Lester suddenly remembered how things had been before.

  Right… no one bathed regularly back then. Heaven help him!

  The stench of feet was one thing—but now he’d have to deal with unwashed bodies too?

  How could these supposedly learned men be so lacking in hygiene!

  Clara finished laying out the bedding, then did a quick circuit of the room. Brick walls, raised kang beds—not too hot in summer, not too cold in winter. She was satisfied.

  She patted Lester on the shoulder. “Cherish this opportunity. Study hard. If you don’t understand something in class, ask questions. After class, discuss your studies with more experienced classmates. Compare your notes to strengthen your grasp.”

  “Oh, and if someone asks to borrow your books, what do you say?” she asked dangerously.

  Lester shook his head like a rattle drum. “No way! I’d rather die than lend them out!”

  “Exactly!” Clara beamed at him. “We worked hard to get these exclusive notes. There are only so many top student slots. Lending those books is like handing your competitors a sword. Got it?”

  “I get it,” Lester replied solemnly.

  After all, her fingers were already casually resting on his neck, giving it a slow, warning squeeze.

  Damn it, if she wants to strangle me, just say so!

  (End of Chapter)

  Enjoying the story? Get early access to new chapters on my Patreon: patreon.com/c/TinaWriterXD

  Thank you for your support! ??