Dawn of the Empire

Chapter 38: A Joyful Morning

Name: Ou Yang Courtesy Name: Qubing Gender: Male Place of Birth: Tai’an Prefecture, Qi Province Date of Birth: November 28, Year 11 of the Republic Registration Location: Lingxi Road Government-run First Senior High School, Certificate No. : Lingxi First Senior High 10855 Educational Qualifications: Xiucai, Certificate No. : Qi-Tai’an-Xiucai 99113 Political Affiliation: Citizen Early on the 8th of the 12th month, Ou Yang sat refreshed and alert in an empty classroom at the First Government-Run Senior High School on Lingxi Road, filling out the application form and resume required to join the Scientific Society. A resume like this could actually be copied directly from his registration record—for instance, the detailed personal information listed above, as well as the description of his appearance: “182 centimeters tall, regular features, medium build, short beard,” and so on. The difference was that the merits he had earned from passing the Xiu Cai examination—as recorded in his registration booklet (three merits for completing compulsory education, five for passing the Xiu Cai exam, and another five for volunteering to guard the border as a Xiu Cai, totaling thirteen merits—which formed the basis of Ou Yang’s citizenship)—along with the merits he had earned from his previous military campaign, were worth absolutely nothing here. The Scientific Society only asks whether one has published any articles in academic journals recognized by the Scientific Society and what the point values of those articles are. Currently, Ou Yang has no record in either of these areas. Therefore, even with Wei Xuezheng’s recommendation, if Ou Yang were to successfully join the Scientific Society, he would receive no more than an iron badge. Of course, having it is better than having nothing. Joining the Scientific Society not only grants bonus points in future examinations for the “Ju-ren” and “Jin-shi” degrees but also ensures support from the Society and its members in his future career, much like that of classmates. Moreover, it isn’t difficult for lower-tier members to advance. If war were to break out, he could join the expeditionary force and simply submit an article like *Diary from the Far West* to earn a bronze badge. Successful inventions, failed experiments, newly discovered organisms, newly identified minerals, geography, medicine, unfamiliar cultures, weapons, tools, innovations in craftsmanship, and even improvements to magic—the Scientific Society welcomed knowledge from all fields without exception. As long as a paper was verifiable, it could secure a spot in one of the Society’s publications, earning points that led to higher-level badges, honors, and privileges. Thinking of this, Ou Yang felt exceptionally elated. This trip had truly been worth it—the Scientific Society never turned down book recommendations from Bronze Badge members, and the Iron Badge he was about to receive alone made the long journey to Junwei well worth it. In his excitement, Ou Yang even found himself unconsciously humming a song from his past life: “Today is a good day, everything I wish for will come true…” He was so happy he was about to burst out laughing. “Senior Ou, you’re really in a good mood today,” a voice rang out from outside the window—it was Song Wenmu’s. Ou Yang patted his cheek, replacing his earlier silly grin with a polite smile. Turning his head, he saw that it was indeed Song Wenmu and Liu Chenyong, led here by a limping school security guard, with Huang Junxian following behind, looking somewhat nervous. Ou Yang tidied up his cluttered desk a bit, then stood up and first bowed to the guard. Most of the gatekeepers at the Imperial Academy were elderly Han veterans from various regions who had been discharged due to disabilities. Their military merits were insufficient to qualify them for official positions, and their disabilities prevented them from performing heavy labor. Consequently, the Empire routinely assigned them to schools at all levels, government offices, state-run or imperial enterprises, and various government agencies to perform auxiliary duties. For example, they might serve as gatekeepers or do some cleaning—tasks that were light and unimportant, yet came with quite generous compensation and status. Ou Yang, who held dual identities as both a student and a soldier, naturally showed these men the respect they deserved. He said to the man, “Thank you for your trouble, old master. They’re here to see me, so I’ll take care of them myself.” The elderly guard nodded faintly, returned a military salute, and turned to limp away. In the eyes of the Empire, the Imperial Academy was considered more important than government offices; unauthorized entry by outsiders was punishable by law. However, a guarantee from a student or teacher residing within the academy was sufficient. The school itself did not prohibit visits from family and friends; besides, aside from the school’s own students, no one would be foolish enough to cause a disturbance within the Imperial Academy. Dawn came late on Lingxi Road. The school’s students hadn’t started classes yet; the more boisterous ones were playing and fooling around on the playground, while the quieter ones, like Ou Yang, had found a sparsely populated classroom to read on their own. Those living a life of luxury might not even have woken up yet from the embrace of the girls at Yingchun Tower. Not only was Ou Yang the only one in this classroom, but the entire five-story academic building seemed remarkably quiet. With no outsiders around, Huang Junxian finally let out a sigh of relief. He’d been to school himself, but his grades were terrible; he hadn’t even bothered to take the county-level examination. After completing his compulsory education, he’d gone to work for his father, earning military merits. He’d always felt extremely self-conscious in such a prestigious school, but now that he was surrounded by familiar faces, he felt much more at ease. Once he relaxed, the exhaustion from his drunken night almost immediately overwhelmed the newly promoted First-Class Officer’s judgment. For several days in a row, he’d been showering Huang Qianzong’s backers with gifts and treating them to meals—even hosting banquets on a few occasions—and had finally wrapped up his last tasks. With his mind at ease, last night he’d gone to Yingchun Tower with Song Wenmu and Liu Chenyong, where they picked up six girls—two each—and spent the entire night cavorting with them. He had originally planned to sleep in today, but both Liu Chenyong and Song Wenmu remembered they had a third companion. This companion seemed to be in Wei Xuezheng’s good graces and had been staying in the First High School dormitory the whole time, never joining them in their wild escapades. Feeling it wasn’t right to leave their companion so isolated, they dragged him along to the school to find Ou Yang. Ou Yang invited the group to sit down; Huang Junxian practically collapsed face-down on the desk. Liu Chenyong gave him a discreet kick, which brought him back to his senses a bit. Ou Yang smiled and didn’t take it to heart; these men held ranks in the military equivalent to his own, and he was not their superior. It was simply that, influenced by the Han tradition of respecting scholars that had persisted for thousands of years, his status as a “xiucai” (scholar) and the fact that this school was larger than the General’s headquarters were quite enough to impress them. If these officers could get to know the school’s students a little better, it would likely dispel much of their awe—aside from the genuinely studious ones preparing for the provincial examinations, most of them weren’t much different from college students in his previous life. Among them, Song Wenmu was the one who longed for school life the most. He had a keen eye; as soon as he walked in, he spotted the partially filled-out application form for membership in the Scientific Society on Ou Yang’s desk. “Senior Ou, are you applying to join the Scientific Society?” he asked curiously. The Scientific Society wasn’t like Yingchun Tower, where money alone could buy admission. Even to become an Iron Badge member, one needed at least the qualification of a Xiucai, plus a recommendation from a Bronze Badge member or higher, or at least one published article in a journal recognized by the Society. Song Wenmu also wanted to join the Scientific Society, and he had family members who could recommend him, but since he hadn’t yet earned his Xiucai qualification, he’d have to wait. “Yes,” Ou Yang replied. “I had a long conversation with Wei Xuezheng yesterday, and he has already agreed to serve as my sponsor for the Society.” The three men across from him looked at him with deep respect; a recommendation from Magistrate Wei to join the Scientific Society was truly a great honor. Since it was something he was bound to receive anyway, Ou Yang had no intention of boasting. It wouldn’t do to create a rift with his colleagues. He smiled and changed the subject: “Gentlemen, isn’t the moonlight at Yingchun Tower beautiful?” As soon as this topic came up, Huang Junxian—who had looked as sickly as a child—suddenly forgot all about the hangover from his night of drinking. He was no novice; back in Diqiang Village—now ranked Ninth Class—he had humiliated female prisoners, and he’d previously kept several female slaves as personal concubines. But how could those common, vulgar women compare to the soft, Wu-dialect coquetry of Yingchun Tower’s top courtesan? After last night’s wild revelry, he probably still hadn’t regained his senses. “Great! Everything’s great! Absolutely fantastic!” Judging by Huang Junxian’s expression—he was practically drooling—“The food’s great! The wine’s great! And Miss Dong’er and Miss Xue’er are even better!” After lavishing praise on Yingchun Tower’s hospitality, his spirits deflated at a visible pace: “Too bad I don’t have enough money to go back there again…” Ou Yang gave him an awkward smile as he poured him a glass of plain water, thinking to himself, ‘Is it really that bad?’ He’d never been to a place like that in either of his lifetimes, but even if he’d never eaten pork, he’d at least seen a pig run, hadn’t he? Aside from those brief few decades during the reign of Mao Taizu in his previous life, across the combined history of the two realms spanning over ten thousand years, when had this line of business ever been absent? In the Huaxia Empire, after the Republic era, enslaving Han people was strictly prohibited. Those madams who had previously treated their girls like beasts of burden immediately pivoted (those who were slow to adapt were dealt with by the Empire), converting indentured servitude contracts into adoption agreements. Of course, the girls’ treatment improved somewhat. Those who truly remained untainted by their surroundings could indeed perform for money without selling their bodies, and they likely took their work more seriously than their predecessors. But as for the girls who welcomed and saw off guests in such establishments—no matter how clingy they might seem, isn’t it all just an act put on for the sake of money? Can you really expect a courtesan to develop genuine feelings for someone who’s just there to spend money and have fun? Liu Chenyong took a very pragmatic view on this matter. He gave Huang Junxian a hearty pat on the shoulder and encouraged him, “Yingchun Tower is a den of vice. The top courtesans there were raised from childhood in the major brothels of Jiangnan’s red-light districts. Just getting to spend time with Miss Dong and Miss Xue once is already a tremendous blessing. If you really like them, you’ll have to find another way.” Huang Junxian looked up at him slightly. “What kind of way?” “Make a fortune and marry them as concubines,” Liu Chenyong said, downing the glass of water Ou Yang had poured for him in one gulp. “You’re already a top-ranked gambler. Once you register your household at the start of spring, you’ll have a solid foundation. Whether this war actually breaks out or not, just work hard for two years—you’ll have enough to cover the dowries for both girls.”