Chapter Twenty-Seven: Fourth Uncle’s Verses
For reasons unknown, Wu Ning saw a trace of tragic grandeur in Wu Changlu’s eyes.
He was a soldier through and through, possessing the melancholy of a veteran and the fortitude of a warrior. Wu Ning felt closest to Wu Changlu, and one reason he enjoyed talking with him was that his fourth uncle always seemed to have the soul of a poet. Though Wu Ning had never met a real poet, he imagined they must be much like his fourth uncle.
He always smiled, always faced life with open-hearted courage. Yet, beneath that ordinary exterior, he hid a force akin to the power found in poetry—just like his declaration moments ago to “smash the government office.” When such strength erupted, even if it didn’t make people tremble, it would certainly shake them to their core.
The only difference was that a poet’s verses could only resound in ink, while his fourth uncle’s poetry was written with sword and spear, inked with the dust of the battlefield, and destined to make people shudder.
But this veteran had long since left the battlefield, and could no longer compose such poetry.
...
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“Fourth Uncle, have you ever noticed? You really resemble a poet.”
It was a spontaneous sentiment, but mostly an attempt to ease the tense atmosphere.
“A poet?” Wu Changlu was indeed sidetracked by Wu Ning.
“The kind who writes sentimental verses?”
“Yes.”
“Nonsense!”
Wu Changlu glared with eyes like ox bells, his face as dark as a pot bottom, his wild beard trembling like weeds.
“How do I resemble a poet?”
“In every way.”
“Get out!” Wu Changlu laughed heartily.
“All right, there’s a pile of things to do. I’m off.”
He strode toward the courtyard gate, calling back, “Don’t worry about Sun Bo’an. Even if he wants to make trouble for you, he wouldn’t dare right now.”
“Why?”
“Hmph! Why did Sun Hongde have his son study? Isn’t it so he can earn a title and honors?”
“Now, with the Wu brothers and Princess Taiping all gathering in Fangzhou, and every scholar in the empire converging there as well—why do you think that is?”
“I don’t need to spell it out for you anymore, do I?”
“No need.” Wu Ning understood at once.
Thinking it over, he realized Sun Bo’an truly wouldn’t dare. The path to officialdom in the Tang dynasty was far from straightforward, unlike the well-ordered imperial exams of later dynasties.
From the Northern Song onward, the examination system was refined, so genuine ability alone sufficed. But in the Tang, it was different.
The Tang’s imperial exams were in their infancy. Even with talent, it wasn’t enough—you needed connections.
What kind of connections? Noble families—barely enough; imperial relatives—more than sufficient.
The exams did offer commoners a chance at advancement, but those who succeeded without connections were exceedingly rare, worthy of being immortalized in history books.
Moreover, the exam’s original purpose wasn’t to open a path for the masses; it carried a specific historical mission and political significance. It was devised as a tool for imperial power to break the monopoly of the aristocratic families over the government.
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The illustrious Seven Surnames and Ten Houses had been suppressed since the days of Emperor Taizong, yet even now, they remained a formidable political force.
To weaken their influence and prevent exam graduates from falling into their clutches, the imperial court’s only recourse was to manipulate the process.
The official term for this was “recommendation.”
Scholars needed all kinds of connections to be recommended; only then could they hope to pass and enter government service.
Thus, “paying respects” became the most vital pre-exam ritual for literati, second only to studying.
Li Bai studied for only a few years, but spent decades networking before the exams.
Bai Juyi was lucky—he found the right patrons upon entering the capital, breezed through the exams, and secured his position.
When Princess Taiping was at her peak, anyone she recommended would pass, and she even determined the rankings.
Meng Haoran, on the other hand, was less fortunate; he spent his life visiting patrons without ever finding the right door. Although his poetry was renowned, he never held office.
In this era, recommendations mattered more than good grades.
And now, three high-ranking imperial relatives would soon arrive in Fangzhou, so it was no wonder scholars from across the empire were rushing there.
At such a crucial moment, Sun Bo’an would be wise to keep his head down and behave; he certainly wouldn’t dare stir up trouble for Wu Ning.
“If only you’d told me sooner, Fourth Uncle, I’d have been at ease!”
Wu Ning’s heart settled instantly. “Don’t leave yet. Let’s fix you something special to eat—a few bowls of good wine. I have other matters to discuss with you.”
“Wine? Bah!” Wu Changlu curled his lip. “The radishes in the field aren’t harvested yet—who has time for drinking?”
Wu Ning rolled his eyes. Really, even Fangzhou’s second most important figure had to worry about radishes?
“Then all the more reason to stay. What I wanted to discuss is precisely the summer harvest.”
“Hm?” Wu Changlu furrowed his brow. “What about the summer harvest?”
“Listen, just look after your inn.”
Wu Ning glanced around; he hadn’t expected the little courtyard to be so elegant. “Leave everything else to us.”
“That’s not possible,” Wu Ning joked. “Otherwise, if we bring in the harvest, Fourth Uncle would have to sell radishes himself on the street, right?”
“Uh...” Wu Changlu was embarrassed.
Fangzhou’s second most important man selling radishes on the street... the mental image was hard to swallow.
Most years, Wu Changlu was too busy during the harvest, so Fifth Uncle and the younger generation helped with gathering and selling the produce.
But this year, things were different. Wu Ning had his own business, Fifth Uncle and Ancestor Jun had their hands full with the charcoal kiln. Those acres of radishes weighed on Wu Changlu’s mind.
“So, you’ve got a solution?”
Wu Ning nodded. “I have an idea—planning to discuss it with you, Fifth Uncle, and Ancestor Jun.”
...
After a moment’s hesitation, Wu Changlu agreed. “All right, I’ll stay for your good meal!”
...
“Excellent!” Wu Ning replied, summoning Wu Li, Wu Qi, and the others to the kitchen.
The ingredients were ready, and soon they laid out a grand feast.
He sent Tiger to fetch Ancestor Jun and Fifth Uncle from the kiln, and had Wu Li call Sixth Uncle, Seventh Brother, and Old Eleven as well.
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Before long, everyone was gathered around the table, eating and drinking.
...
Only Ancestor Jun seemed displeased, ready to scold Wu Ning.
“A midday feast? Are you made of money?”
Wu Ning didn’t want to argue with the old man, so he laughed, “It’s for business.”
“What business?”
“The radishes in the fields.”
Wu Ning took the opportunity to address the crowd. “Didn’t all our families plant radishes this summer?”
Everyone nodded. What else could you grow in summer? Either radishes or turnips.
The main reason was that radishes kept well—they could last until winter and serve as winter stores.
Though the longer they kept, the woodier they got; ideally, you’d plant them in autumn so they’d be fresh for winter. But you couldn’t eat radishes and turnips all winter long.
So, everyone planted radishes in summer, and in autumn sowed spinach, cabbage, and other leafy greens to eat when the weather cooled.
“They’re all radishes this summer.”
“That’s perfect!” Wu Ning grinned. “Bring them all to my place and store them in the vegetable cellar!”
“Huh?”
Everyone forgot their food, staring at Wu Ning in surprise.
“Why not just keep them in a cool spot? Isn’t that easier?”
“It’s no trouble,” Wu Ning insisted.
“Our cellar is the coolest place. Come autumn, I guarantee they’ll be as fresh as they are now.”
...
The group exchanged glances, uncertain.
They’d all helped dig the cellar, and Wu Ning had promised that anyone who helped would have a share: several families could use it together.
At the time, nobody thought much of it, but now, everyone felt unsure.
Would it work? Would the radishes rot in storage?
...
Wu Changlu was especially stunned. “Ninth Brother, your fourth uncle has seven or eight acres—over a thousand jin of radishes. You want to store them all in the cellar?”
“Yes,” Wu Ning confirmed.
“I guarantee you’ll sell them for a good price before winter comes!”
...