Chapter 3: The Emperor of Today Prizes Literary Grace; Why Speak of the Han and Tang to Me?

After several refusals, Fan Jin reluctantly accepted the silver and the property deed, bowing respectfully in thanks.

Once the village gentry Zhang had left, Hu the butcher emerged from the inner room, still visibly shaken.

His expression made Fan Jin almost smile.

Old Master Hu was drenched in sweat, looking as if he had just been tackled by a tiger.

“Dear son-in-law, you are like the celestial star of literature descending to earth; you should be on equal footing with that village gentry Zhang in social interactions,” Hu the butcher said, waving his large, fan-like hands and patting his chest as he tried to calm himself, though inside he was a whirlwind of anxiety.

Zhang the village gentry was a long-standing client; every year his household purchased four to five thousand jin of meat. Ordinarily, Hu would never consider himself an equal, not even to Zhang’s servants, who were far more dignified than a mere butcher.

During festivals and holidays, gifts had to be sent to Zhang’s servants, accompanied by flowery words, just to maintain this steady, profitable business.

The two were worlds apart in social status, yet it was unexpected that such a prominent figure would personally visit his humble son-in-law, speaking with warmth and ease.

Even more surprising was that the son-in-law, whom Hu had always thought incapable of achieving anything, not only conversed on equal terms with Zhang but conducted himself without fault.

After chatting with old Master Hu for a while, Fan Jin, concerned about his wife and mother-in-law hiding in the inner room, carried a tray and stepped inside.

“Brother Jin!”

As soon as Fan Jin parted the curtain, a familiar figure rushed into his arms.

He knew well this was his wife, the woman with whom he had shared hardship and hardship.

“My dear, you have suffered all these years!”

Fan Jin paused, then gently patted her shoulder, his deep voice full of concern.

Only now did he take a moment to really look at his 'faithful wife.'

To be honest, Fan Hu’s appearance was difficult to associate with beauty; she was almost hard to look at.

Her eyes rimmed in red, a tangled nest of yellow hair, no shoes on her feet despite the approaching late autumn, and she even wore a woven straw foot cover...

In Fan Jin’s memory, Hu Yingying had never looked like this before; she had been a truly outstanding beauty.

Otherwise, Hu the butcher would never have harbored such foolish hopes.

Years ago, many wealthy families sought to marry into Hu’s family for the sake of Hu Yingying’s beauty, but Hu the butcher, obsessed with climbing the social ladder through his daughter’s marriage, rejected all offers without mercy.

And it wasn’t only because of Hu Yingying’s looks!

Unfortunately, Hu the butcher was just a pig slaughterer with low social status; no respectable gentleman would marry a butcher’s daughter...

Moreover, rumors said Hu Yingying had a childhood sweetheart, the bookworm Fan Jin, with whom she had grown up.

Their marriage had been delayed until Hu Yingying was thirty, nearly lost, before Hu the butcher finally relented.

“Dear, look at this,” Fan Jin smiled, handing the tray filled with silver to Hu Yingying.

She froze for a moment, then opened it to find stacks of gleaming silver ingots, trembling as she whispered, “Where did all this silver come from?”

“That village gentry Zhang just gifted it to me,” Fan Jin explained.

“So much money... when will we ever spend it all?” Hu Yingying swallowed hard.

Ordinarily, neither the Fan family nor her own family, the Hus, could produce such a sum.

Hu the butcher rose before dawn every day to slaughter pigs, working himself to exhaustion, yet he earned less than two taels a month.

Even so, the Hu family was considered one of the wealthier households within ten miles, far above the humble farmers eking out a living.

Because of this, Hu the butcher always looked down on his neighbors.

What did fifty taels mean?

It was uncertain if Hu the butcher had ever saved that much silver in his lifetime.

Moreover, years of supporting their daughter and son-in-law had angered his two sons, who had split the family’s assets and lived separately, leaving Hu the butcher with only a fraction of the wealth he once had.

Those days of glory were long gone.

Fan Jin chuckled lightly. “This is just the beginning.”

In the coming days, many would rush to deliver money, fields, houses, and servants.

Unlike the scholar who only had face but no substance, the provincial graduate was no ordinary figure; there were poor scholars, but no poor provincial graduates.

Besides enjoying exemptions from land taxes and corvée labor, the provincial graduate had the right to become an official.

Village gentry like Zhang had even been lucky enough to serve as county magistrates.

Even if not appointed, provincial graduates still held considerable influence over local governance.

If the county magistrate represented imperial authority, then the village gentry was the local tyrant — the invisible ruler in the area.

Many times, magistrates had to show goodwill to the gentry and cooperate with them.

Among the four social classes — scholars, peasants, artisans, and merchants — merchants might enjoy lavish feasts and fine silks, but with Fan Jin’s status, it was easy to control those wealthy but unconnected merchants.

Sure enough, it was not long before all the prominent figures of the county arrived with congratulatory gifts, many coming in person.

Carriages laden with generous presents arrived in an endless stream, astonishing the villagers of the Fan family’s village.

The gifts from major merchants were the most substantial — silver, property deeds, silk brocade, maids, and servants...

Fan Jin accepted them all without hesitation.

A rough estimate suggested assets worth two to three thousand taels.

As for who didn’t send gifts?

Hmph, Fan Jin might not remember who gave what, but he was crystal clear on who had failed to send anything.

Fortunately, the well-established merchants were savvy and wouldn’t slack off on such matters.

“Pity that such an open and legitimate chance to accept sudden wealth only comes a few times in a lifetime,” Fan Jin said, growing increasingly ambitious.

Accepting gifts wholesale from merchants was perfectly proper and carried no risks.

For the merchants, it was no different from burning incense and praying at a temple, except they were worshipping a living Buddha who controlled their fate.

Who had ever seen a Buddha return the offerings?

Whether to grant favors or not depended entirely on the Buddha’s mood.

Scholars and literati from the county also came bearing gifts.

Most brought exquisite writing supplies, rare and beautiful flowers, ancient rare books, or various collectible trinkets.

Any hint of mercenary motives was considered a stain on their noble character.

A group of scholars, eager to make connections, even adopted the posture of students seeking guidance.

The more scheming ones used the pretext of asking for corrections to their carefully prepared poems to gain fame.

Fan Jin found this somewhat exasperating.

Neither he nor his former self was skilled in poetry or verse.

Poetry, romance, and the like were luxury items for a humble scholar like Fan Jin.

At a thought, Fan Jin assumed a dignified posture, face stern, and said, “In today’s reign, the emperor values literature; why speak of the Han and Tang dynasties, my friend?”