The tabby cat was startled and quickly withdrew its paw, but soon recovered, looking rather annoyed. It let out a low growl, arched its back, and was ready to attack at any moment.

Suddenly, the red carp opened its mouth and shot out a jet of water, once again hitting the tabby cat squarely in the face.

This time, the tabby cat flew into a rage. It hadn’t expected that a tiny fish, meat already at its mouth, would dare to toy with it like this. It immediately raised its paw and swiped fiercely at the water.

Bang!

The red carp’s small body gave a gentle twist, and more than half the basin of water seemed to be under its control, forming a wave that crashed down right on top of the tabby cat.

This was no mere splash or water jet like before.

The tabby cat sensed a terrifying force within the small wave, its fur standing on end in fright. With a startled cry, it spun around and leapt onto the roof, fleeing in panic.

—And so, The Brooks Family’s female tabby cat, raised for half a year, ran away from home and never returned. The old housekeeper Uncle Harris, unable to find the cat, cursed, “Spring’s here and the cat’s in heat. This ungrateful thing has probably run off with some stray tomcat…”

Splash!

The wave in midair fell back into the basin, and the red carp swam about happily.

Today, Mr. Sullivan paid a visit, not for anything major, just to check on his student’s exam preparations.

But Sanlang Brooks seemed distracted, answering absentmindedly, and when asked to write an essay on the spot, his composition was off-topic.

Mr. Sullivan shook his head: this student has no hope of passing the children’s exam this year. But given his previous blank paper, no matter how disappointed he is now, it’s nothing new.

He politely declined The Brooks Family’s invitation to stay for a meal, gave a few routine reminders, sighed, and returned to his private school.

As soon as the teacher left, Sanlang Brooks hurried to the front yard. Seeing the red carp safe and sound, he finally relaxed—truth be told, during Mr. Sullivan’s assessment, he suddenly remembered the family cat and grew terribly anxious, afraid it would sneak a bite and eat the fish, which would have been a joke.

But as it turned out, that didn’t happen.

Keeping fish in a porcelain basin wasn’t ideal. After a moment’s thought, Sanlang Brooks simply scooped up the red carp and released it into the family well.

The well water was cool and clear, and the red carp seemed delighted, its rosy body lively and energetic.

Sanlang Brooks felt happy for it.

From then on, the red carp lived in the well.

With the children’s exam approaching, Sanlang Brooks hadn’t gone to the martial arts school these past few days, choosing instead to stay home and study behind closed doors. Still, every morning he would spend some time practicing horse stance—though as for “Jingfeng Finger,” well, he’d put that aside for now to avoid injuring his fingers.

Horse stance in the morning, essay practice in the afternoon, and reading at night. When he grew tired of reading in the study, he’d take his books out to the yard and sit by the well to watch the red carp.

At such times, the red carp would always appear, surfacing from the water. It seemed to enjoy listening to Sanlang Brooks read aloud; whenever it heard his rhythmic reading voice, it would gently sway its head and tail, making soft splashing sounds.

Sanlang Brooks noticed this and found it quite strange: could this fish have become a spirit, gained intelligence, and understood what he was reading?

But if that were the case, how had it been caught by the fishmonger in the first place, nearly ending up as a meal?

Unable to figure it out, he simply kept reading, reading to a fish as if to a confidant—a refined pleasure in itself.

Time flew by, and in the blink of an eye, several days passed. Tomorrow, the first round of the children’s exam, the county exam, would begin.

Chapter Ten: The County Exam Begins, An Auspicious Start

Jing County was under the jurisdiction of Yangzhou, located in the Jiangnan region.

Since ancient times, Jiangnan had been a land of culture and literary excellence. Every round of the imperial exams produced outstanding talents, and the children’s exam was no exception. The dynasty selected officials based on regional quotas, and Jiangnan’s selection rate was among the highest, but the base number was often several times that of other prefectures. Moreover, most local candidates were well-read and knowledgeable, making it truly a bloody road to stand out from the crowd.

The children’s exam was the first step on this path.

Jing County wasn’t large, but it had a county school, village schools, and dozens of private academies—Mr. Sullivan’s private school was just one among many.

Thus, every year, hundreds of candidates registered for the children’s exam in the county, but after three rounds of selection, only a dozen or so would qualify for the title of shengyuan (licentiate).

Sifting gold from sand—such was the way.

Early in the morning, Sanlang Brooks got up, washed, and after breakfast was escorted by the housekeeper Uncle Harris to the exam site at the county school.

Don’t think you’re early—there were already crowds outside the gate, at least a thousand people, almost too packed to get in.

Not all of them were candidates; many were family members or guarantors.

After waiting a while, Mr. Sullivan arrived with a young scholar. The scholar was short, with thick eyebrows and big eyes, and was Mr. Sullivan’s prized student, Eugene Quinn, now a stipend student at Nanyang Academy with a bright future.

—To take the children’s exam, you had to have a guarantor, and one guarantee covered all three rounds. There were various forms of guarantee, but having a stipend student vouch for you was the simplest.

Simple didn’t mean easy: first, you had to know the right people; second, you had to pay a considerable fee. Otherwise, who would vouch for you for nothing?