Amidst the flourishing academic atmosphere, many talented women emerged, and dedicated women’s poetry societies were established in various regions. These societies often organized outings and poetry gatherings, with flocks of graceful ladies drawing much attention wherever they went.

Yvonne Foster never aspired to be a renowned female scholar; she simply enjoyed poetry and literature. She admired Sanlang Brooks because he could recite lines like “The ducks are the first to know when the river warms in spring.”

When Yvonne Foster became angry, Guitang Carter naturally dared not say another word. He glared fiercely at Sanlang Brooks a few times, thinking that if he ever got the chance, he would make this bookworm suffer.

Sanlang Brooks acted as if he hadn’t noticed, brushed the dust off his clothes, and cupped his hands to Yvonne Foster, saying, “Miss Yvonne Foster, I still need to go to the private school, so I’ll take my leave.”

“Oh,” Yvonne Foster responded, then casually asked, “Are you going to class at the private school?”

She found it a bit odd, since Sanlang Brooks hadn’t attended the private school for several days.

Sanlang Brooks smiled, “No, I’m going to ask Mr. Sullivan for a recommendation so I can participate in this year’s children’s exam.”

The children’s exam was held every spring, and by the calendar, this year’s exam was approaching.

Yvonne Foster was taken aback and blurted out, “You’re still going to take the exam…”

On the side, Jintai Mason couldn’t help but interject mockingly, “Sanlang Brooks, you’ve already taken the exam three times and haven’t achieved a thing. With your abilities, you still want to become a scholar? Do you really think you’re up to it?”

Guitang Carter sneered, “Exactly. Last year was even more ridiculous—you actually scored a zero. What a joke.”

During last year’s county-level children’s exam, Sanlang Brooks was so overcome with nerves that his hands kept trembling, and he couldn’t even hold his brush. In the end, he handed in a blank paper. When word of this got out, it became a running joke.

Sanlang Brooks remained silent, didn’t try to explain, and simply turned and left the martial arts hall.

Watching his lonely and slender figure walk away, Yvonne Foster suddenly felt upset. Her willow-shaped brows arched in anger as she barked at Guitang Carter and Jintai Mason, “Since you two came to the martial arts hall, you’ll both do horse stance training for one whole hour today.”

“One hour?”

Guitang Carter and Jintai Mason were shocked and dismayed. They wanted to make excuses, but didn’t dare utter a word.

An hour later, the two wealthy young men hobbled out of the martial arts hall, supporting each other, their legs still trembling as if they’d been forcibly bent out of shape, forming a wide arch that wouldn’t straighten for quite some time.

Chapter Five: Failing Again and Again, Yet Never Giving Up

On his way to the private school, Sanlang Brooks bought five jin of meat to carry with him. He didn’t have to walk far before he could see, from a distance, the white poplar tree in the school courtyard, its fresh green leaves shimmering in the spring breeze.

The sound of children reading aloud drifted over, their voices full of youthful innocence.

Most of the students in the private school were young children just starting their studies; it was rare to see someone of Sanlang Brooks’s age, already in his late teens. After all, by a certain age, one would have learned all there was to learn and no longer needed to stay at the private school.

Sanlang Brooks didn’t rush in, but paused in the courtyard, closed his eyes, and quietly listened. If anyone saw him like this, they would surely find it odd.

He waited until the reading stopped and class was dismissed before going to see the teacher.

The teacher’s surname was Sullivan, and he was over sixty, with a goatee and a thin, gaunt face. He had once been a scholar, passionate about the imperial exams in his youth, but unfortunately, he never passed and couldn’t attain a degree. As he grew older and gave up hope, he opened a private school in Jing County to make a living by teaching.

Mr. Sullivan was upright and prudent, and quite respected in the county.

Seeing Sanlang Brooks bring meat, he understood the gesture, sighed, and asked, “Sanlang, are you taking the exam again this year?”

Sanlang Brooks nodded, “I’d like to try for one more year.”

He had been saying this for several years now.

Mr. Sullivan looked at him for a long time without speaking. In his view, as long as Sanlang Brooks’s anxiety during exams wasn’t cured, it wouldn’t matter if he took the test ten or a hundred more times—it would all be for nothing, just a waste of money. If that was the case, why keep doing something so futile?

Perseverance is a virtue, but blind perseverance is just foolishness.

In the Xia Yu Dynasty, taking exams was no trivial matter. The travel expenses, social obligations, and various other costs were not insignificant. There were plenty of scholars who went bankrupt just from taking the exams.

Sanlang Brooks had shown talent since childhood and loved to study, and Mr. Sullivan was very fond of him. But fate was unkind, and his hidden illness kept him from succeeding in the exams. The old teacher hated to see his student so stubborn, refusing to let go, and feared he would ruin his whole life over it.

“Sanlang, I heard you’ve been going to the martial arts hall.”

Seeing the determined look on Sanlang Brooks’s face, Mr. Sullivan changed the subject, trying a different approach.

Sanlang Brooks replied, “Yes, I’ve always felt physically weak, so I wanted to learn some basic martial arts to strengthen my body. If I’m healthier, I’ll have more energy for my studies.”

Mr. Sullivan was taken aback and asked in surprise, “So, does that mean you’re no longer anxious during exams?”

Sanlang Brooks scratched his head and answered honestly, “Well… I’m not sure yet.”

Mr. Sullivan let out an “oh,” unable to hide his disappointment. “So, you’re still determined to take the exam?”

Sanlang Brooks replied, word by word, “Failing again and again, yet never giving up—one day I will succeed.”

Hearing this, Mr. Sullivan felt a bit dazed. In Sanlang Brooks, he vaguely saw his younger self—just as stubborn and determined, always believing that as long as he persevered, he would eventually succeed. Back then, he took the exam for twenty-eight years straight, until his family was impoverished, his eyes dimmed with age, and his hair turned white, yet he still failed to make the list.