Volume One: The Supervisor and the Candidate Chapter Fifty-Nine: The Long New Year's Eve

Whether it was the significant upheaval that had recently struck the Embroidered Uniform Guard, or the matter of Niu Si that Huang Bingkun had mentioned, Huang Ming did not consider either of them particularly important.

He was keenly aware of his current station. As a student at the Imperial Academy, his duty was to study diligently, striving to improve himself; the affairs of the court, for now, remained distant from his own life.

So, for a time, Huang Ming threw himself back into his studies, resuming the monotonous and tranquil routine of traveling between home and the academy each day.

Aside from his required lectures, he would specifically seek out lecturers like Zhang Bi to consult on cultural knowledge he did not understand, and while at it, asked them to guide him in producing better brush calligraphy.

Such basic concerns would have seemed laughable for any other scholar, but for a youth who had grown up in hardship and only gained the chance to learn a month or two ago, these things were especially precious.

Consequently, Zhang Bi and the other lecturers grew fond of and respectful toward this student. Whenever Huang Ming approached with a question, none of them would adopt the airs of a Hanlin academic, but instead would patiently teach him until all was clear.

In this environment, Huang Ming's progress was naturally swift.

By the time the end of the year arrived, he could already read through the entire Analects, grasping the gist of its contents, even if only roughly.

As for his writing, though his characters were still somewhat ugly, at least they were now legible to others.

For someone accustomed to consuming direct information and who often forgot how to write characters whenever picking up a brush—a product of the modern age—this was already a tremendous improvement.

As the year drew to a close, the Imperial Academy finally granted all its students a holiday, sparing Huang Ming from his daily early-morning journeys to class.

Yet, with this sudden freedom, he found himself strangely at a loss, unsure of how to fill his days.

This sense of aimlessness became all the more acute as New Year's Eve approached.

The festive atmosphere had long since taken hold.

In the Ming Dynasty, several centuries ago, at least in the capital city of Beijing, most commoners enjoyed a measure of prosperity. After a year of hard work, everyone wished to celebrate the new year well.

Thus, as the festival drew near, the streets were strung with lanterns and colorful decorations, and all manner of shops and stalls began selling the items needed for the holiday.

But as the young master of the Huang family, now head of the entire household, Huang Ming need not trouble himself with such trivialities.

All the necessary purchases and arrangements for the holiday were naturally managed by Steward Huang Zhong and the other servants.

Even if he wished to prepare a few dishes for himself, he would be stopped in alarm by the household staff before he even approached the kitchen.

A young master, a student of the Imperial Academy, how could he enter a place fit only for the lower classes?

As the saying went, “A gentleman keeps his distance from the kitchen.”

If he wanted to eat anything, all he needed to do was give the word. No matter how rare the delicacy or exotic the ingredients, as long as it could be found in Beijing, they would prepare it for him and bring it to his table.

This, Huang Ming now understood firsthand, was what it meant to be among the privileged—though he had yet to fully adjust to it.

Thus, the days flew by even more quickly, and before he knew it, New Year's Eve had truly arrived.

This was, perhaps, the most important day for the people of China in a thousand years.

According to custom, people everywhere celebrated in their own ways.

Whether it was worshiping deities and ancestors, setting off fireworks and singing and dancing, or simply gathering for a family reunion meal and watching a gala—tedious as it might be, with everyone making dumplings together—at heart, it was a day for families to unite and celebrate together.

Yet there were always exceptions. Those in certain professions, even on so important a day, had to place public duty before private life and could not spend it with family.

In his previous life, Huang Ming had been one such person. Due to his work, he had spent several New Year's Eves at the office.

Now, having crossed into this era, he was at last able to spend the new year at home. But the problem was, aside from himself, his household consisted only of a group of servants.

There was truly no one to accompany him for the holiday—less lively even than his past life, when at least he could celebrate with comrades at work.

His father, Huang Jin, was one of those special professionals of this era.

As a palace eunuch, he seldom had the chance to leave the Forbidden City. And as the Emperor’s most trusted attendant, he could never simply come and go as he pleased.

Especially on New Year's Eve, the Jiajing Emperor needed his chief attendant everywhere.

So, Huang Jin could only send a message to his son, urging him to enjoy the holiday at home, and sent along some rewards bestowed by the Emperor.

As for Steward Huang Zhong and the other servants, they could ensure the festive atmosphere at the residence, but that was the limit of their participation.

Even when Huang Ming invited them to share the New Year's Eve dinner with him, they declined repeatedly.

It would be unthinkable—what were their stations, after all? How could they dare dine at the same table as their young master?

If such a thing were discovered, who could say what would happen to Huang Ming, but the servants would certainly be severely punished by their master, or even sent to the authorities for punishment.

The distinction between master and servant was always the foundation of the Ming Dynasty’s order.

Thus, in the end, the only person in the household who could share this reunion meal with Huang Ming was Qi Changfeng, his bodyguard and something of a friend.

Yet, on this very morning, after confirming that Huang Ming would remain at home all day, Qi Changfeng asked for leave.

He had made friends in Beijing—fellow “drifters in the capital” like himself—and naturally, on New Year's Eve, they would band together for warmth.

Now that Qi Changfeng had found a promising position and a bright future, he could not forget his roots, so he spent the holiday eating and drinking with these friends, even taking off the following day.

So Huang Ming was left alone before a table laden with delicacies, feeling oddly devoid of appetite.

“Well, who would have thought my first New Year's Eve after traveling through time would be spent like this…”

He sighed, having eaten only a few bites before feeling full. If only there were a Spring Festival Gala to watch, even one filled with insipid performances and lip-syncing pretty boys—he would gladly endure it.

“Am I being too sentimental? I have good food and drink, no worries about clothing or shelter, and yet here I am, longing for something more… Compared to those who might still be cold and hungry, my lot is immeasurably better.”

Huang Ming quickly caught himself, ate a little more, and then ordered, “Come, clear away these dishes and share them among yourselves. If there’s any food left over, pack it up and take it outside—see if any beggars might need it.”

Huang Zhong and the others hurried to thank him for his generosity and set about making arrangements.

By now, night had fallen, but it was still early. According to custom, it was far too soon to sleep. Huang Ming would have to stay up until the third watch, waiting for the new year to arrive—keeping vigil for the passing of the old year.

“Ah, this long, lonely New Year’s Eve…”