Chapter 80: Brush, Ink, Paper, and Inkstone

“Pinky swear, a hundred years no changing—”

After saying this, they pressed their thumb to seal the promise.

It was a common game among modern children, but Zhang Jinlan had never seen it before.

Just as she wanted to ask something, Jiang Shoujia arrived with his eldest son’s family.

“How did you sell it all so quickly? Here, give me the basket.”

They took the backpack and bamboo basket from Zhang Jinlan.

“Our eggs are large, many people bought them. How about you? Did you go to the school? How did it go?” Zhang Jinlan asked eagerly after putting down her hands and picking up her granddaughter.

“They accepted Tongmu. He’ll move in tomorrow, return home every ten days for three days at a time. The admission fee for a year is three taels of silver, plus food and drink. He also needs to prepare a gift for the teacher. Tomorrow morning, we’ll buy pork. The teacher said we don’t need the six ritual gifts, so we’ll just buy more pork—five jin should be enough,” Jiang Shoujia said leisurely.

“So expensive! Tongmu, you have to study hard, read lots of books, and then teach your younger siblings. By the way, did the school say what we need? Brush, ink, inkstone? Do we need to buy books?” Zhang Jinlan inhaled sharply.

She had anticipated that education would be costly, but not this expensive.

Three taels just for the admission fee, not counting food.

No wonder no one in the village sent their children to study.

In past years, their family could barely save two taels a year—sometimes not even that.

With three sons to marry off and so many mouths to feed, any illness required buying medicine from a doctor.

If the harvest failed, they had to tighten their belts and endure hunger for the whole year.

“Everything must be bought. Otherwise, how will the children write? They’ll need primers too.”

Jiang Shoujia, unlike Zhang Jinlan, remained calm.

He had already anticipated spending a fair amount of silver today.

“All right, first buy Tongmu’s supplies, then get fabric for Fubao’s clothes. We also need to visit the butcher—five jin of pork isn’t little. Make sure to get good meat, half lean, half fat belly. Gifts must be proper, otherwise the teacher may give Tongmu trouble.”

Though frugal, Zhang Jinlan was generous with her grandson.

“Grandma, don’t worry. I’ll study well.”

Jiang Tongmu felt like he was dreaming.

Just yesterday, he was chopping wood on the mountain, and now he was going to school.

Would he really become a scholar capable of composing poetry in three steps?

“Good child. Grandma doesn’t expect you to achieve fame, just to study well. Then you could become a clerk or accountant. Farming is hard; Grandma hopes you’ll live in the city someday. Look, it’s so lively here—no need to cook for a meal, just have some wontons or noodles.”

On the way to Youran Street, Zhang Jinlan looked around enviously.

The youngest son of the clan leader worked as a clerk in town, earning at least half a tael a month, with food and lodging included.

In a year, he could easily save five taels—far better than farming.

“Here we are. This is the shop. That teacher said the sixth bookstore on Youran Street is the cheapest,” Jiang Shoujia said, stopping outside a store.

Jiang Fubao looked up and saw a sign reading “Mo Qing Bookstore.”

“What would you like to buy, sir?”

The shop assistant hurriedly came out to greet them.

“I want to buy brush, ink, paper, inkstone, and a primer for my grandson. What was it called…”

Jiang Shoujia hesitated, forgetting the teacher’s long list of instructions.

“You’re a student of Sanshan School?” the assistant asked tentatively.

“Yes, yes, my son studies there,” Jiang Dahe replied quickly.

“Then you need primer books. Please come in; I’ll get them for you to see.”

The assistant was enthusiastic.

New students bought many things, unlike poor children who spent a whole day in the bookstore without spending a single coin.

The shopkeeper was kind and never rushed them.

“Here, sir, these are primer books. One is printed, slightly more expensive at two taels, with clear characters. The other is handwritten, cheaper at one tael. Which do you want?”

Jiang Fubao’s eyes widened.

So expensive! A thin book costs two taels.

To pass the Xiucai exam would require dozens of taels.

No wonder no village child ever attended school.

Poverty prevented even enough food, let alone education.

Only the clan leader’s family could afford to send children to study.

“Then we’ll take the handwritten one. Is there cheaper brush, ink, paper, and inkstone?”

Jiang Shoujia could read only a few simple characters.

He flipped through the books, mostly unrecognizable, checking only clarity before closing them.

The book prices were higher than he expected.

“All right, I’ll pick some cheaper ones for you,” said the assistant, unfazed by the handwritten choice.

His salary was fixed, but the shopkeeper rewarded extra profits at year-end.

“Sir, look at this inkstone. One corner is chipped, but you’d barely notice. I’ll include two ink sticks. Only one and a half taels. This paper got wet once but dried—it’s usable, though ugly. Only two hundred wén. As for brushes, we just got a new batch. Old ones are cheaper; I picked one for sixty wén. Will that work?”

The assistant explained item by item.

The Jiang family didn’t know quality, so Jiang Shoujia nodded.

“All right, we’ll take it all. Please calculate the total.”

“Sure! Handwritten book one tael, inkstone one and a half, paper two hundred wén, brush sixty wén—total two taels seven hundred sixty wén.”

The assistant looked at Jiang Shoujia, waiting for payment.

Zhang Jinlan squeezed in. She had to bargain.

“Brother, could you make it cheaper? Look, we’re farmers. Supporting a student is so hard. Give us a discount, or consider the brush and paper a gift.”

Her words stunned the assistant.

He’d seen bargaining before, but never like this.

What do you mean “skip the remaining 260 wén”?

“This bookstore isn’t mine. I really can’t lower the price. Ours is already the cheapest on this street. I can throw in five extra sheets of paper, though.”

The assistant refused outright.

Zhang Jinlan was not one to give up easily.

The Jiang family stepped back and watched her “battle” the shop assistant.