On the eighth day of the fourth month, the martial examination palace test took place.

The palace test began at the hour of Si and lasted for one hour.

Ninety-eight martial tribute scholars entered the hall and were seated according to their literary test rankings. Only the top three from the metropolitan examination sat in the first row, with the rest arranged in nineteen rows of five people each.

Emperor Yongchang sat on the dragon throne facing north, while the three princes and the two chief examiners from the Ministry of Rites and Ministry of War were granted seats on the left and right lower positions. Unlike the literary examination’s palace test, today the great hall was also ringed with Imperial Guards to prevent any highly skilled martial tribute scholar from being an assassin sent or bought by someone with ill intent, thus endangering His Majesty.

Within the solemn and dignified hall, there was only the rustling sound of nearly a hundred tribute scholars’ brushes moving across paper.

Emperor Yongchang held a registry in his hands that noted each tribute scholar’s name, age, marital status, and household registration. The household registration included the tribute scholar’s father and brothers’ names and ages, whether they held any academic degrees, and their marital situations.

With an hour to wait, Emperor Yongchang had plenty of patience. Upon seeing a tribute scholar’s name, he would look up to observe the corresponding person below. Those who were particularly handsome or ugly received a few extra glances, while those without any distinguishing features were swept over with a single look.

Emperor Yongchang had also heard the excellent story about Prince Hui’s maternal family having four successful candidates on one examination list. If it had been the maternal family brothers of his other two daughters-in-law, Emperor Yongchang would still suspect some irregularities. But as for Second Son and his wife—Second Son wasn’t that type of person and had no official connections that could help with cheating, while Second Son’s wife only had a father who was a hundred-household commander whose arm couldn’t reach that far.

Following the order, Emperor Yongchang examined the three Luo family brothers in turn. These young men from a town in the outskirts had skin tanned to a light wheat color, all with handsome features, broad shoulders, long legs, robust and solid builds—clearly possessing genuine martial skills.

After Luo Ze, Emperor Yongchang scanned several more rows before finally seeing Second Son’s maternal uncle Yao Lin.

Just from this ranking, Emperor Yongchang wasn’t too satisfied with Yao Lin. As the maternal uncle of the dignified Prince Hui, how could his scores be inferior to three maternal cousins?

Finally, Emperor Yongchang saw Yao Lin in person, seated in the third row from the back. Although currently bent over writing furiously, his broad-backed and bear-like physique couldn’t be hidden even while seated. When Yao Lin scratched his head and looked up in thought, Emperor Yongchang clearly saw Yao Lin’s features—a pair of round, bright black eyes strikingly similar to Second Son’s wife’s, lacking her liveliness but possessing a simple sincerity that could be read at a glance.

Suddenly, Yao Lin looked forward.

Emperor Yongchang deliberately smiled at the young man.

Yao Lin blinked and returned a stiff smile, then immediately buried his head to answer questions.

After Emperor Yongchang had reviewed everyone’s situation, the emperor in dragon robes left the dragon throne, with two guards automatically protecting him on either side.

Emperor Yongchang still followed the ranking order, standing behind each tribute scholar for a while to observe their opening passages and handwriting.

Emperor Yongchang was naturally not a true dragon, but the emperor’s authority still affected some examinees. The most nervous had trembling hands holding their brushes with sweat visibly breaking out on their foreheads and napes. Those ordinarily nervous stiffened and paused their brushes briefly to calm themselves. Those ordinarily composed merely glanced at the dragon robes with their peripheral vision. The most composed simply focused on their answer sheets, unconcerned whether an emperor stood beside them.

Actually, their hearts surely all experienced ripples, but from the moment Emperor Yongchang descended from the dragon throne—something that could be anticipated—to when the emperor actually arrived beside them, those sufficiently composed had time to calm those ripples.

The palace test examined more than just written essays.

Just by walking this circuit, Emperor Yongchang roughly gauged the courage of this batch of tribute scholars. Military generals who would lead troops in battle should ideally remain calm in the face of danger.

The examination was in the morning. That afternoon, Emperor Yongchang summoned the three princes, two prime ministers, and the ministers of War, Personnel, and Rites to the imperial study. On the imperial desk were three separate stacks of examination papers—the first-tier, second-tier, and third-tier jinshi as evaluated by Emperor Yongchang. However, the specific rankings within each tier hadn’t been determined yet. Emperor Yongchang hoped to discuss them collectively with everyone. If anyone felt his evaluations were incorrect—for instance, that someone in the second tier should advance to the first tier or should be relegated to the third tier—they could speak freely.

First tier had three people, second tier twenty-eight people, third tier sixty-seven people. Among these, the rankings of the first-tier top scholar, second place, and third place were most important.

Emperor Yongchang’s chosen top scholar was a thirty-one-year-old middle-aged tribute scholar, ranked second in the martial test and third in the literary test—already a first-tier candidate.

As for Li Tingwang, who ranked first in both literary and martial tests, because he was only twenty years old and had an impressive bearing, he was unsurprisingly selected as third place.

Whether in literary or martial palace tests, whether in the former or current dynasty, third place was basically given to the most handsome and youngest among the top ten.

Yao Huang’s eldest maternal cousin Luo Kun was selected by Emperor Yongchang as second place. Emperor Yongchang’s reasoning was that Luo Kun was calm and steady with the bearing of a great general. In the martial test, except for one superior grade, all his scores were excellent, ranking eighth. In the literary test, he ranked tenth. His border defense strategy in the palace test was also substantive and practically feasible.

Prince Kang and Prince Qing both glanced at Prince Hui’s wheelchair. Although Father Emperor’s reasoning made sense, both still felt Father Emperor had suspicions of elevating Second Brother’s wife’s clan. But it was only a minor martial second place—granted a fifth rank upper grade local defense commander or military guard thousand-household commander position. In peacetime, aside from drilling the few troops under their command, they had no other real power. Among the Great Qi Dynasty’s numerous military officials of the same rank, they were utterly inconspicuous. Unlike civil officials, even a minor seventh-rank county magistrate alone controlled an entire county’s land taxes, revenue, criminal justice, and other real powers.

Luo Kun’s twin brother Luo Peng was ranked in the middle positions of the second tier. Twenty-year-old Yao Lin and nineteen-year-old Luo Ze were both in the third tier.

At dusk, Zhao Sui didn’t linger much at the Ministry of Works before returning to his princely residence.

Yao Huang didn’t know that Prince Hui had also been summoned by Emperor Yongchang to the imperial study to evaluate the three tiers of martial jinshi. She only cared about her four brothers’ palace test performance that morning. At noon while eating at her maternal family home on Changshou Lane, the four brothers each had their thoughts, but what the examinees themselves thought hardly counted. Yao Huang was very curious about what her brothers were like in Prince Hui’s eyes.

Zhao Sui looked at the princess consort and said, “I know the three-tier rankings.”

The announcement would be posted tomorrow morning. Tonight the princess consort couldn’t go anywhere, so there would be no crime of prematurely leaking the rankings. As for the short hour-plus between tomorrow morning and the posting of the announcement, Zhao Sui trusted the princess consort could control herself.

Yao Huang was speechless.

Heart racing, blood rushing, Yao Huang excitedly stood up.

Zhao Sui watched the princess consort’s cheeks visibly redden, waiting to see whether she would ask or not.

Of course Yao Huang had to ask: “How many in second tier, how many in third tier?”

Zhao Sui lowered his eyes, suppressing his smile as he said, “One in second tier, two in third tier.”

Yao Huang’s face went pale as she stared incredulously at Prince Hui opposite her: “What about my brother? Did he answer so poorly he didn’t even make third tier?”

That shouldn’t be right—at noon, her brother had boasted that His Majesty smiled at him…

Zhao Sui replied, “He’s in third tier.”

Yao Huang continued anxiously, “Which cousin failed?”

Prince Hui finally revealed a trace of a smile: “Your eldest cousin is first-tier second place.”

Yao Huang was speechless.

After the shock and wild joy, Yao Huang pounced on the wheelchair, pressing Prince Hui’s shoulders to bite the flesh of his neck: “How did Your Highness become so wicked, deliberately teasing me when you knew I was anxious!”

Zhao Sui timely blocked the princess consort’s little teeth that often bit at his shoulders and arms, defending himself: “You asked, I answered. There was no teasing.”

For other matters, Yao Huang would carefully debate with Prince Hui, but right now she was too happy, wishing she could ride a horse back to Changshou Lane to immediately share the good news with her family.

Zhao Sui perceived the princess consort’s restless impulse and solemnly reminded her she couldn’t leak this matter.

Yao Huang’s eyes shifted as she clung to his neck and asked, “Shouldn’t Your Highness not have told me either?”

Prince Hui lowered his eyes without speaking.

Yao Huang happily kissed his cheek: “I love this kind of exception. Your Highness trusts me, so I won’t cause Your Highness trouble. Tomorrow I won’t even go to the announcement wall—I’ll wait for Mother and the others to come congratulate me.”

Zhao Sui replied, “You went when both the martial and literary test results were announced. If you don’t go tomorrow, they’ll definitely guess you already know.”

Yao Huang agreed, “True. Then I’ll make one more trip.”

The next day, Yao Huang sat in the carriage, acting quite convincingly. She didn’t reveal anything even to her mother and cousin.

When the Ministry of Rites officials came to post the announcement, aside from Luo Kun who steadily remained by the carriage, Yao Lin and the other two squeezed into the crowd again.

The tribute scholars were anxious to see the rankings with their own eyes. There were also those purely there for the excitement who had secured good positions. As soon as the yellow announcement was posted, they began reading out the rankings: “Top scholar Qiu Zhuo, second place Luo Kun, third place Li Tingwang!”

Before Yao Lin and the others had squeezed back out, Mother Yao and her daughter and niece first heard about Luo Kun’s second place!

Luo Jinhua cried out and jumped down from the carriage to embrace her eldest nephew. Luo Yue also excitedly followed.

Yao Huang sat alone in the carriage. Because she had known last night, at this moment she felt only joy without excitement. Thus she heard about Li Tingwang’s third place immediately following her eldest cousin.

Yao Huang suddenly thought of something.

Prince Hui was indifferent to worldly matters. Perhaps he hadn’t paid attention to the previous two martial examination announcements, but since he knew her four brothers’ rankings in advance, he surely also knew about Li Tingwang’s conspicuous third-place ranking, right?

Prince Hui could choose not to mention Li Tingwang, but given Li Tingwang’s friendship with her brother and given Li Tingwang’s many years as her “childhood companion,” and with Li Tingwang performing so well this time, if she didn’t mention him at all, wouldn’t it make her seem more guilty?

After nightfall, as soon as Prince Hui lay on the bed, Yao Huang climbed on top of him, hands braced on either side, smiling as she examined Prince Hui’s handsome face.

Zhao Sui sensed the princess consort’s unusual behavior. Last night she had been so delighted, yet hadn’t been this forward.

Zhao Sui placed his arms at his sides, motionless as he met the princess consort’s gaze: “Why this?”

Yao Huang replied, “Admiration, perhaps. Today I discovered another gentlemanly virtue in Your Highness.”

Prince Hui, not expecting such praise, immediately averted his gaze. Every time the princess consort praised him, her eyes shone bright as the brilliant sun.

“What virtue?”

“Broad-mindedness!”

Although Zhao Sui guessed the princess consort’s meaning, he still had to pretend ignorance and ask, “What do you mean?”

Yao Huang rocked on top of him until Prince Hui’s breathing grew irregular and he looked at her. Only then did she smile and say, “Li Tingwang’s third place! Your Highness already knew he was my childhood companion and even felt a twinge of jealousy about it, yet you didn’t think to deliberately make him fail or use subtle means to limit him to only second or third tier. This kind of magnanimity—if it’s not gentlemanly virtue, what is?”

Prince Hui closed his eyes and after a moment of silence said, “First, when he approached you, you weren’t yet my princess consort. I shouldn’t hold past matters against him. Second, he has talent and looks. Third place is what he deserves. Even if I weren’t a gentleman, I wouldn’t stoop to being a petty person who bullies others using my position.”

Yao Huang said, “This is exactly what makes a gentleman. After becoming your princess consort, I still wanted Mother to go show off to Lady Li, which shows I don’t have Your Highness’s magnanimity.”

Zhao Sui thought of the look Li Tingwang had cast his way before the palace test began.

There was no fear like He Wenbin’s of being punished by the prince, no anger at having his beloved stolen. Li Tingwang’s eyes held only the proper awe a tribute scholar should have for a prince, and hidden beneath that awe, a subtle defiance.

During that hour, Zhao Sui had watched Li Tingwang’s long legs bent under the desk as he answered questions and thought about many things.

He wasn’t as broad-minded as the princess consort praised him to be. He minded too.

But what Zhao Sui minded wasn’t how Li Tingwang had been close to the princess consort. Rather, he minded that he too wanted to run with the princess consort, to play with her—but he could never do so in this lifetime.