“Took him two attempts to scrape through, and look at him lording it about!”
When Wen Dongrong checked his results, the Chen sisters were out shopping together. Chen Ru received the message and could not help venting to her younger sister Chen Li. She thoroughly disapproved of Wen Dongrong’s smugness.
Chen Li pursed her lips in a smile.
Not only had Wen Dongrong and Deng Shangwei, that pair of brothers-in-law, warmed to each other, but Chen Li also felt closer to her sister Chen Ru.
In the past, Chen Ru would look after Chen Li, nagging at her for this or that, yet never utter a word against Wen Dongrong in her presence.
No matter how great the rift between the couple, Chen Ru would swallow it all herself, never showing a shred of vulnerability before Chen Li… Over the years, Chen Ru had projected the image of a “devoted couple” to outsiders, and even to her own kin, she refused to drop the facade.
In truth, what perfect marriage exists in this world? Even one person’s upper and lower teeth clash now and then, let alone two ordinary folk living together. It would be odd if there were no bumps along the way!
Now, when Chen Ru could not hold it in, she would gripe about it to Chen Li’s face. Chen Li felt no schadenfreude; rather, she saw it as a sign of their sisterly bond deepening.
“Brother-in-law is already quite impressive. If it were our chap taking the exam, I reckon he would not pass after ten goes! You have no idea how comical he is. He has returned all the knowledge from primary school textbooks to the teachers. I have to stifle laughs every night watching him pore over books to study.”
Chen Li thought herself rather shrewd for assigning their eldest son Deng Jie to her husband Deng Shangwei for tutoring. Now Deng Shangwei was in a right flap, while Chen Li could take her time preparing for their younger son Deng Hao.
Chen Ru could not help chuckling, “You have latched on to Shangwei alone to bully!”
Chen Li burst out laughing, “I am not bullying him. The sons are not mine alone. It is perfectly normal for each of us to handle one.”
That was true enough.
Chen Ru had been too accommodating in the past, shouldering all of Wen Ying’s daily life and studies by herself, leaving Wen Dongrong with too much idle time. That surplus energy had gone towards Shu Lu!
On that note, Wen Dongrong had truly stumbled upon a massive bargain for nothing.
Chen Ru sent a cold message to Wen Ying.
“Your dad has scraped through the postgraduate entrance threshold.”
Wen Ying saw the text during break time and felt utterly baffled at once: Do not underachievers always perform worse the more confident they feel? This ironclad rule had somehow failed for Old Wen!
After a moment’s bewilderment, Wen Ying was actually rather pleased.
Old Wen kept crowing about becoming the “head of the household”, and here he had finally produced some results, at least.
Though Wen Ying had never banked on her parents buying her a car or a flat in either of her lives, that did not mean she would turn down having a pair of ambitious, striving parents!
However, Wen Ying did not reply to the message.
She had ample experience dodging Manager Chen’s spot checks. Replying now would only prove she was fiddling with her phone in school at all hours!
Heh heh, she had seen it, but she would die before texting back!
That evening, Wen Dongrong returned home under Deng Shangwei’s escort.
Both had drunk a fair bit, their faces flushed red. Deng Shangwei called out loudly, “Little Ying, quick, pour us some water.”
Drinking always left one parched, and Deng Shangwei was not just thirsty but also rather worked up.
Wen Ying obligingly poured two glasses of water. Wen Dongrong gulped his down with relish, greatly satisfied.
See that? That was family standing!
“How much have you two had to drink?”
Chen Ru had been needled all day by Chen Li’s offhand remarks, stirring up her own grievances. What was so brag-worthy about scraping through on the second try? Chen Ru had passed on her first go without half the bluster from Wen Dongrong.
“Not much. Brother-in-law has aced it, after all. We few mates just gave him a modest celebration.”
The “few mates” on Deng Shangwei’s lips were Qin Xianming, Wang Jun, and Li Zhentao. The latter two needed no explaining, but Wang Jun, that illiterate boss, most admired the learned sort. Tonight at the table, he and Deng Shangwei had taken turns puffing up Wen Dongrong until the man was floating on air.
The ancients dubbed passing the imperial exam for jinshi “the great triumph”, and jested that marriage was the “lesser triumph”.
Both great and lesser triumphs were life’s joys, but dubbing a second-try pass “a triumph” made Wen Ying snort with laughter from the sidelines.
Wen Dongrong was ever sensitive and whipped round at once, “What are you snickering at?”
Wen Ying looked all innocence, “Such grand news. I am thrilled for you!”
Was she, now?
It somehow did not ring quite right.
Old Wen let it slide, waving a hand to hush Deng Shangwei, “It is but one exam. No need to overdo the praise.”
“Passing warrants a celebration, though~”
Deng Shangwei, nearly driven mad by primary school primers, genuinely admired Wen Dongrong.
Wen Dongrong brimmed with emotion.
How had he ever pegged Shangwei as a sly little tradesman?
He was plainly such a solid chap!
Wen Dongrong now took a real shine to Deng Shangwei, nigh itching for an all-night chinwag by candlelight. Chen Ru let out a “heh”, “Where do you plan to put Shangwei up? He still needs to head home and tutor Deng Jie!”
—You, who sleep on the balcony yourself, where would you billet a guest?
Wen Dongrong caught on too and, with great reluctance, saw Deng Shangwei to the door.
Wen Ying offered Old Wen another round of congratulations, then yawned that she was off to bed.
At this hour, Wen Dongrong brimmed with confidence. That night, he even thought to haul the bedding back to the bedroom. Chen Ru asked coolly out of the blue, “You lock yourself in the study every day. Have you churned out any fruits of your labours?”
Pfft.
That stab landed hard and true.
On the matter of holing up in the study daily to write commentary pieces and submit them, Old Wen felt a pang of sorrow.
He had researched so diligently, written so well. Why the string of rejections from several papers?
It made no sense!
Wen Dongrong feigned airy nonchalance, “A piece of writing comes as heaven’s gift, shaped by a touch of genius. How can one rush such things?”
“Speak plainly.”
“Oh, that is, I am still feeling my way. I believe a acceptance is just round the corner…”
Wen Dongrong clung to his dignity, but Chen Ru rolled her eyes.
“So, no acceptances yet, then!”
“…”
The words were fair, but did she have to spell it out so bluntly?!
Wen Dongrong, bones afloat no more, was yanked back to earth by his wife. Upping one’s credentials was all well and good, a boon to career advancement. But learning was a slow burn, often. It might take two years, or five. No one could say.
To have real clout at home in the short term, one’s pockets still needed lining.
Why no acceptances? On what grounds?
The more Wen Dongrong mulled, the angrier he grew. Gritting his teeth, he stormed into the study. First, he rifled through the magazines he had bought for research, then pored over the rejection emails from various papers one by one.
Editors as meticulous and dutiful as that of Xiao Niu were few and far between. Some would note a few shortcomings in their turndowns, but most resorted to boilerplate, claiming the piece did not fit the publication’s needs and sending the author packing.
Wen Dongrong had penned files and materials for years, speeches flowing from his pen like water. His transfer to Rongcheng owed entirely to his way with words. He simply could not fathom these rejections.
Was his writing subpar?
Or did these editors lack the taste to appreciate it…
Prestige or profit, which weighed heavier?
After half an hour’s agonising, the itch to be “head of the household” overrode his prideful streak. Wen Dongrong opened the rejection emails and began replying to the editors one by one, hoping they might detail the pieces’ flaws.
Old Wen, when inclined to converse properly, could hold his own rather well. Not every editor would deign to reply, true, but even one who did would see him clamber up that vine!
Wen Dongrong typed slowly and laboured over his first email. Fortunately, with that as template, the rest needed only tweaks to fit.
Some half-hour after sending, an editor from one paper did reply to Wen Dongrong.
Wen Dongrong lit up and seized the chance.
The editor asked if they could chat on QQ instead, for real-time ease, to walk him through the manuscript’s issues.
Wen Dongrong proved crafty. Rather than add the editor via his everyday QQ, he rapped on Wen Ying’s door.
Wen Ying cracked it open, “What?”
“Help me set up a QQ account!”
“Do you not have one already? Why a new one?”
Wen Ying eyed him askance.
True, Old Wen had kipped on the living room balcony for a spell, but that hardly licensed online dalliances!
“Just because I have an old one means I cannot get a new? By that logic, with all your old clothes, would you never buy fresh?”
“That is not the same thing… Fine, I shall not pry. I will help you apply.”
Wen Ying forbore arguing further with Old Wen. It dawned on her that he was the sort who would not even clear his browser history after searching online. With her handling the new QQ signup, Old Wen guarding any secrets was a pipe dream!
Now it was Wen Dongrong’s turn to hesitate.
Black-hearted cotton suddenly so amenable? It worried him a tad.
But he could not afford qualms now. Wen Dongrong burned to chat live with the editor!
Acceptance, he would snag one!
He had cleared the postgraduate threshold, after all. No cause his pieces should prove harder!
—The manuscripts were all in Chinese, after all. Surely not tougher than mugging up English.
