Within less than a quarter of an hour, all the students had finished breaking the examination essay topic, filled their names at the end of the paper strips, and handed them to the assistant academic official.
Headmaster Song, together with several elder scholars, evaluated the submissions publicly. Whenever they encountered a particularly brilliant essay opening, they would read it aloud for everyone to enjoy, then hand it to a student with fine calligraphy to copy in large characters onto a scroll, which was then hung on both sides of the Minglun Hall.
Pei Shaohuai’s opening was selected by Headmaster Song, who recited it aloud: “Breaking the wanderer’s longing upon the pillow, rescuing the farmer’s suffering in the fields — excellent! Though the word ‘rain’ does not appear in the sentence, it allows one to taste the pure, unwavering heart of a traveler far from home, and also reveals the hardship of farming families who must pause and resume their work amid spring rains as they tend to their crops. Every word is plain and unadorned, yet the meaning holds both the intimate and the expansive. The craft of this opening belongs in the highest tier.”
He then added: “This line is from Pei Shaohuai of Wanping County.”
Pei Shaohuai rose to receive the evaluation, cupped his hands together, and bowed, saying: “This student accepts the Headmaster’s guidance.”
The students in the hall turned their gazes toward him, yet there was not much surprise in their eyes. Pei Shaohuai had placed first in the prefectural examination and fifth in the annual assessment — while not exactly famous, he had earned himself a modest name within the prefectural academy.
Afterward, several more students received evaluations. Their openings were brilliant in their own right, yet none surpassed Pei Shaohuai’s — until Headmaster Song once again recited aloud: “The ascending dragon gathers clouds and mists from all four directions, and every blade of grass and tree across the realm is graced with its blessing — excellent! What a fine verse on the boundless benevolence of imperial favor! Virtuous officials rise like clouds, and all the common people beneath heaven are enriched by the Emperor’s grace.” One could see from Headmaster Song’s expression a look of great elation.
The brilliance of that line lay in its comparison of rain and dew to imperial favor. Were the full essay to be written, it would surely be an outstanding piece extolling the Son of Heaven.
Headmaster Song continued: “This line comes from the hand of Chen Xingqing of Daxing County.”
Chen Xingqing — the eldest legitimate grandson of the Jinchang Marquis household. Since they both belonged to noble families within the capital, Pei Shaohuai naturally knew of Chen Xingqing, though they shared only a passing acquaintance.
Unlike the declining fortunes of the Jingchuan Earl’s household, the Jinchang Marquis household was at present in full flourish. Chen Xingqing’s grandfather and father both held official positions at court — though not central posts, they had successfully transformed the Jinchang Marquis household from a purely military meritocracy into one that was also aligned with the scholarly-official class.
Within the capital, the Jinchang Marquis household was widely regarded as an exemplary model of propriety among the titled nobility. They did not ingratiate themselves with princes and dukes, nor did they form factions with other marquis and earl households — they simply guarded their own small patch of land, adhering to ancestral instructions against extravagance and arrogance. For this, they repeatedly earned the Emperor’s commendation.
Now that it was Chen Xingqing’s generation, it was anticipated that he too would pursue the imperial examination path to enter officialdom, and thereafter heed imperial decrees faithfully. From the line “The ascending dragon gathers clouds and mists from all four directions, and every blade of grass and tree across the realm is graced with its blessing,” one could already glimpse something of Chen Xingqing’s character as the eldest legitimate grandson of the Jinchang Marquis household.
When the evaluation concluded, the title of “Kuixing” fell, as expected, to Chen Xingqing without contest. Pei Shaohuai came in second place, and the Shuntian Prefectural Academy rewarded him with an inkstone.
Jiang Ziyun said with a hint of regret: “Little brother Huai, your loss had nothing to do with the cleverness of your opening or the loftiness of your theme — it is something of a pity.”
Pei Shaohuai was not particularly concerned about the result and laughed lightly, saying: “It was nothing more than a small competition meant to blend teaching with entertainment — there is nothing to feel sorry about. Besides, this inkstone is far more practical than that Kuixing statue.”
After the gathering dispersed, Pei Shaohuai returned to the dormitory courtyard, just as he was preparing to head back to the Earl’s manor. At that moment, a finely-dressed young gentleman came looking for him.
The young gentleman was seventeen or eighteen years of age, with bright eyes and white teeth. His movements were swift yet carried an easy grace, bearing all the spirit of a youth clad in fine silks astride a spirited horse. He came before Pei Shaohuai, clasped his hands in salute first, then introduced himself: “This unworthy one is Chen Xingchen, the ‘Xing’ of ‘the sun and moon move in their courses, the stars and constellations proceed in their paths,’ and the ‘Chen’ of the same.”
His speech was clear and precise, though his Mandarin carried an unmistakable trace of a Hunan dialect.
Pei Shaohuai returned the salute. Hearing the young man’s introduction, and seeing Chen Xingqing standing at the young man’s side, Pei Shaohuai surmised that this young man must be a junior member of the Jinchang Marquis household — though he was curious as to why he had never heard of this young man before.
Judging by his accent, he had clearly not grown up in the capital.
Chen Xingqing stood to the side and helped with the introductions: “He is my third younger brother. He has been away since childhood, following our uncle, so you likely have never met him. He was studying at the Yuelu Academy and only returned to the capital a few days ago. Having heard that you are proficient in mathematics, he pressed me into bringing him along.”
Pei Shaohuai understood. The Jinchang Marquis indeed had a younger son serving as an official outside the capital — that must be Chen Xingchen’s father.
“I heard from elder brother that you have already mastered the Celestial Element Method, and have also done considerable research into the methods of Surplus and Deficiency, Simultaneous Equations, and the Pythagorean Theorem?” Before his elder brother had even finished speaking, Chen Xingchen eagerly asked, his eyes glimmering with light.
“I have studied these algorithms, though I dare not claim mastery,” Pei Shaohuai replied modestly.
Chen Xingchen also knew the Celestial Element Method, though he had only worked up to three unknowns and had not yet mastered four unknowns. He therefore produced several problems involving two and three unknowns to discuss with Pei Shaohuai on the spot, and Pei Shaohuai resolved them one by one, leaving Chen Xingchen astonished, admiring, and delighted all at once.
In his heart, Chen Xingchen understood clearly that the modest young man before him possessed mathematical ability far surpassing his own — what had been revealed was but the tip of the iceberg.
“I have also heard that in his leisure time, Pei Gongzi reads the Nine Chapters on the Mathematical Art and records his insights in writing. I make bold to ask — would it be possible to borrow a look at some of them?” Chen Xingchen’s expression showed a little embarrassment, for it was indeed rather presumptuous to ask for someone’s scholarly notes upon a first meeting.
That he acted despite knowing it was presumptuous only made his obsession with mathematics more apparent.
Perhaps fearing that Pei Shaohuai might refuse, Chen Xingchen added: “If it is inconvenient, I shall send a calling card another day and come to your door to discuss things with Pei Gongzi in person. I copied some ancient texts back from the Yuelu Academy — Pei Gongzi may find them of use.”
Pei Shaohuai smiled and said: “What inconvenience could there be? Chen Gongzi may take them freely.” He took out a sheaf of manuscripts from the bookcase and handed them to Chang Fan to wrap up properly.
Quite a few people in the prefectural academy knew that Pei Shaohuai wrote down his mathematical insights, yet only Jiang Ziyun had ever borrowed them — everyone else had not the slightest interest.
In the Da Qing dynasty, where literary essays alone determined a person’s worth, Chen Xingchen’s devotion to mathematics was truly rare. Pei Shaohuai was never the type to be possessive of his knowledge. Whether out of considerations of building connections, or purely out of scholarly exchange, Pei Shaohuai would not refuse.
Chen Xingchen accepted the manuscript wrapped in plain cloth and said solemnly: “I shall come again another day to personally express my gratitude to Pei Gongzi for generously sharing this.”
“It is my great honor.”
……
……
That day, Lin Shi came holding a letter, smiling as she entered Ying Jie’er’s chamber and said: “Your third elder sister has had someone bring another letter out — take a look.” Something in the letter appeared to have conveyed news worth rejoicing over.
Simply hearing that it was a letter from Elder Sister Zhu was already enough to fill Ying Jie’er with happiness. She joyfully took the letter and read it — and wept with a heart full of delight, her tears flowing unstoppably. She threw herself into her mother’s arms and said: “Elder Sister Zhu is enduring such hardships in the palace, yet she still thinks of me at every turn…”
“Silly child — you sisters have always shared a deep bond.” Lin Shi coaxed Ying Jie’er and then said: “Then let this matter be entrusted to you to handle. You must attend to it carefully and see to everything with thoroughness.”
Ying Jie’er nodded earnestly.
It turned out that in early July, a group of female palace attendants had been granted the imperial favor of leaving the palace and returning to their homes. Among them was a palace elder woman — originally from Daxing County — who had served in the palace for several decades. Her family home had long since fallen into ruin with no one left, and upon leaving the palace, she had no place to stay. Pei Ruozhu had therefore asked her family to arrange in advance a small courtyard for the palace elder woman, and to select a few good servants to attend to her needs.
“Palace elder woman” was a common form of address within the palace, referring to the senior female attendants of the Bureau of Medicinal Affairs in the rear palace. They were women in their forties or fifties who originally came from families with a medical background; they were versed in medical texts, medicines, and pulse diagnosis, and oversaw matters related to medical prescriptions and medicinal supplies.
Though the Imperial Medical Academy and the Imperial Pharmacy existed within the palace, the Imperial Physicians were there to treat the noble personages. When female officials, palace maids, or eunuchs fell ill, they could only seek diagnosis from the palace elder women.
As the years passed, the medical skills of certain palace elder women grew increasingly refined. When consorts or imperial concubines had some minor ailment and it was not seemly to summon an Imperial Physician, it was also the palace elder women who attended to them.
The one leaving the palace this time was precisely such a person — a sixth-rank female historian under the Bureau of Provisioning, serving in the post of Medicinal Supervisor, known as Medicinal Supervisor Tian.
……
The story of how Pei Ruozhu came to know this palace elder woman dated back several months.
One day, Pei Ruozhu led several palace maids to the Bureau of Provisioning to seek medicines from the palace elder woman, and it was Medicinal Supervisor Tian herself who came out to receive her — which surprised Pei Ruozhu considerably, and she inwardly wondered whether Medicinal Supervisor Tian had some ulterior motive.
In the palace, after all, nothing happened without a reason.
On subsequent visits, Pei Ruozhu encountered Medicinal Supervisor Tian each time. Medicinal Supervisor Tian had an excellent reputation within the palace — she was gentle and warm with everyone and was the sort of female official who kept entirely to herself.
Yet Pei Ruozhu sensed that Medicinal Supervisor Tian harbored depths beneath her surface. After all, one could not rise to the position of sixth-rank Medicinal Supervisor by medical skill and a refusal to contend alone.
From the stray remarks Medicinal Supervisor Tian let “inadvertently” slip, Pei Ruozhu came to understand the woman’s true purpose.
Medicinal Supervisor Tian came from a medical family and was the eldest daughter of the household. The family had hoped to seek a foothold in the world of official medicine, and so sent her into the palace first to scout the path. But within just a few years, Medicinal Supervisor Tian’s two younger brothers contracted a severe illness while practicing medicine and both died. Their father, overcome with guilt and grief, fell into deep sorrow and passed away two years later as well. The once-prosperous medical family was then consumed by clan relatives, and the household was ruined and its members gone.
Medicinal Supervisor Tian’s heart had turned to ash. She remained in the palace for decades, until her black hair turned white.
With nothing left to tie her to the world, why still leave the palace? She regularly donated incense money and contributed to the upkeep of a Buddhist nunnery, planning that when she grew too old to be of use, and should the palace no longer wish to keep her, she would have somewhere to go.
But recently, she had developed other thoughts. It seemed she had learned that within her clan there was a pair of young siblings — both their parents and paternal grandparents had all passed away, and they too had been consumed by clan relatives, with no one willing to raise them, living in very difficult circumstances.
Medicinal Supervisor Tian, who had been at peace for decades, felt a tempest stir within her — whether out of pity for these siblings, or out of a desire to seek out her roots in old age, she had been moved. She wanted to register these siblings under the names of her first and second younger brothers, and rebuild the Tian family of former times.
There may also have been other private thoughts and plans.
The difficulty, however, lay in how to leave the palace. Even if the Empress released her for a time, it was quite common to be summoned back by imperial decree whenever hands were short.
Medicinal Supervisor Tian knew that Pei Ruozhu was currently in high favor with the Empress, and so wished to use Pei Ruozhu’s voice to let a few words about her situation reach the Empress’s ears.
One day, Medicinal Supervisor Tian said to Pei Ruozhu again: “Her Majesty the Empress is by nature exceptionally kind-hearted. If she were to learn of my bitter circumstances, she would surely make an accommodation and allow me to leave to spend my remaining years in peace.” Only a month remained before the list of female officials to be released from the palace would be drawn up, and Medicinal Supervisor Tian had grown somewhat anxious.
But how could Pei Ruozhu dare to agree to such a thing? The palace held the strongest taboo against any interference in the appointment and dismissal of personnel. Though she was favored by the Empress, she was not among the Empress’s innermost confidantes — how could she dare to play small tricks before the Empress?
She feared that not only would she fail to help Medicinal Supervisor Tian, but she would also bring trouble upon herself.
Pei Ruozhu thought for a moment and said: “The female historian whom Medicinal Supervisor Tian keeps by her side constantly — her medical knowledge seems to have earned the approval of quite a number of the consorts and concubines. I have seen her make many house calls.”
Medicinal Supervisor Tian did not understand why Pei Ruozhu was bringing this up and said: “She is something of a disciple of mine — she has acquired nine-tenths of my skills.”
“Her Majesty the Empress values talent. With the end-of-year assessment drawing near, if she can demonstrate her medical abilities, the position of Medicinal Supervisor would have a ready successor,” Pei Ruozhu said meaningfully.
Medicinal Supervisor Tian immediately grasped the implication, and new ideas took shape in her mind. She smiled and said: “When Her Majesty the Empress comes to observe, I ask that Imperial Recorder Pei put in a few kind words on my disciple’s behalf. My disciple does have genuine skill.”
Pei Ruozhu agreed, saying: “Speaking a few words of truth is no trouble at all.”
A month later, Medicinal Supervisor Tian’s name appeared on the list of those leaving the palace, and the Empress graciously approved her departure from the palace the following July.
As a gesture of gratitude, Medicinal Supervisor Tian introduced Pei Ruozhu to certain people, saying: “All this old woman can do is serve as a needle threading people together. With Imperial Recorder Pei’s abilities, I trust you will soon find your way and become thoroughly integrated.” Within the palace there existed an invisible web, hidden and difficult to trace — Medicinal Supervisor Tian led Pei Ruozhu to tear open a small corner of it.
Having done a good deed, Pei Ruozhu also knew that Medicinal Supervisor Tian would need a place to land after leaving the palace, and so she extended this favor further along.
Besides, she had long known that her fourth younger sister was thirsting to learn about medicine and pharmaceuticals — how could she let such a fine opportunity pass?
……
……
In late May, the prefectural examination was drawing near. Pei Shaojin had already made his preparations and was only waiting for the examination hall notice to open for registration.
That day, he set aside half a day to accompany Concubine Shen to a temple to offer incense and make wishes — a small gesture to ease the deep longing Concubine Shen felt for her daughter.
After offering the incense and leaving the temple, entirely by ill chance, they ran into that Li Shuisheng — Li the Third.
That Li the Third was also senseless enough to recklessly step forward and strike up a conversation with Pei Shaojin. Concubine Shen did not recognize Li the Third and assumed he was a fellow student of Pei Shaojin’s; Pei Shaojin then whispered a few words in his little mother’s ear, and Concubine Shen’s expression changed at once, contempt appearing in her eyes.
Pei Shaojin saw his little mother onto the carriage, then turned to address Li the Third with complete disrespect: “You have no shame at all. Knowing full well I have no wish to see you, why do you still come forward to speak with me?”
There was no one nearby, and Pei Shaojin spoke plainly.
Li the Third’s face flushed with shame, hot and burning, as he stammered: “I heard that the Third Young Miss has entered the palace as a female official — is this true?”
He added another line: “That matter was handled improperly by our family. Being of humble station, there were indeed unavoidable difficulties and trying circumstances…”
Pei Shaojin did not let him finish his explanation, cutting off Li the Third’s words: “Getting bolder by the day, your shamelessness only grows. My elder sister had nothing whatsoever to do with you — it was nothing more than a single chance encounter. Speaking of it the way you do makes it sound as though there was some entanglement between you two, which would only damage my elder sister’s reputation.”
“There are a thousand and one ways to handle things, yet your family chose to have the mistress of the house come to look her over, with a manner full of insinuation and veiled insults. My mother made things perfectly clear, so why do you still have the shamelessness to come inquiring about my elder sister time and time again?”
“‘Unavoidable difficulties and trying circumstances’ — you speak as though our Earl’s manor forced those difficulties upon you. There is simply no reason to it. Even if the Earl’s manor had something to do with it originally, it has long since been cleanly settled — your family no longer needs to be troubled or put in a difficult position, isn’t that wonderful? What are you coming here to seek an explanation for?”
“Or do you still harbor some ambition? In the past you lacked the ability to marry my elder sister. Now you think you have what it takes? Do you have the means to protect her? If you’re drunk, go home and sober up with a good cup — what madness are you making on the roadside?”
His words left Li the Third’s face scarlet red, ears burning hot. Already fumbling for words before, he was now so completely at a loss that not a single syllable could force its way out.
He had meant to say that he had achieved his scholarly degree and remained in the capital, that he had not yet settled on a marriage, and that he was hoping the Third Young Miss would one day leave the palace so he could once again go to the Earl’s manor to seek her hand.
His feelings were sincere enough, he believed.
Pei Shaojin said at last: “Since it is a matter that has passed, and you feel guilt in your heart, then find your own way to resolve it. But always coming after our family — expecting us to help lift the guilty burden you carry — that is not how things work anywhere under heaven.”
Having said his piece, he shook his sleeve and left, boarding the carriage.
Inside the carriage, Concubine Shen looked at her son, whose face was flushed red with indignation, and a few traces of relief showed in her eyes. She said softly: “When you were little, I always feared your temperament would take after mine — timid and hesitant. Now that you have been studying, you grow more and more discerning in matters of right and wrong, and you are no longer that little bun who only knew how to keep his head bowed.”