No worthy talent left undiscovered among the people — may all the nations rest in peace and order.
Word quickly spread throughout the capital that the Emperor had personally set the examination questions and personally read and assessed the sealed papers. The examinees gathered in meeting halls across the city buzzed with discussion. Those who had ranked lower in the Metropolitan Examination, who had all but given up hope of achieving second-rank status in the Palace Examination, now rekindled a measure of confidence; those who had ranked high in the Metropolitan Examination and had answered well in the Palace Examination found themselves newly anxious that some unforeseen mishap might yet befall them.
Nothing was settled yet.
The tribute scholars felt deeply honored, and eagerly anticipated the Proclamation Ceremony the following day.
The Emperor earned himself the celebrated reputation of one who hungers for capable men.
On the eve of the Proclamation Ceremony, along Ankang Street at the southern gate where scholars congregated, lanterns burned through the night without extinguishing, and the atmosphere was quiet without clamor — the tribute scholars could not sleep, yet dared not drink lest it cloud their minds for the occasion, and could only sit in stillness and await the dawn.
Pei Shaojin was the same.
He sat quietly in his study, his eyes full of the image of himself bent over books day after day — rising each morning at the first glimmer of light on the horizon, studying each night until the lamp burned low, never stopping through bitter cold or sweltering heat.
Others often praised his exceptional memory, saying he need only read something several times to commit it to recitation. Yet what they did not know was that in order to grasp the deeper meaning of poetry and classical texts, in order to ensure that his written compositions would carry genuine insight, he had not slackened for a single day across more than a decade of study by cold windows.
Why had he studied?
At first, it was for his mother’s hopes and for the pride that came with being able to recite after a few readings. Then the family’s fortunes fell, and they suffered the contempt of others, and he set his heart on restoring the Pei household’s standing. Now, on the verge of entering office, as for how one ought to serve as an official, his father and elder brother had already led by example and shown the way.
Every step of the path he had walked was itself the answer.
He stepped out to the eaves of the corridor. The east wind brushed his face, carrying a chill that still held the edge of spring. Gazing upward, he could make out the North Star burning bright. Pei Shaojin recalled that in the letters he had once exchanged with his elder brother, he had spoken of wishing to stand alongside him and, fearless of the tower that rose a hundred feet, reach up and pluck the stars from the sky.
Now he had followed in his elder brother’s footsteps, journeying together through the river of clouds and stars. The young man who had once dreamed of plucking stars had himself become a star for others — glowing faintly but never extinguishing.
After standing in silence for a moment, Shaojin returned to his room and once more took out that yellowed notebook. The notebook had been re-bound and stitched back together. He turned to the last page, spread it flat upon the desk, rolled up his sleeve, and took up his brush, preparing to write the ending of more than twenty years into the notebook.
He wrote: “Pei Shaohuai, Yi You Examination Year, First Rank, First Place.”
On the line below, he wrote: “Pei Shaojin, Wu Zi Examination Year, First Rank…” The remaining space Pei Shaojin hoped to fill in tomorrow, dressed in a crimson robe with a golden flower pinned in his hair.
On the day of the Proclamation Ceremony, he rose again at the fourth watch.
There was a great event in the household, and apart from the two little ones Xiao Nan and Xiao Feng — who could not be roused from their sleep — all the adults had risen early, and the family took their morning meal together in the main hall.
Pei Shaojin wore the blue-robed graduate’s attire sent by the Ministry of Rites, every corner and hem tucked neatly in place, standing straight as a pine. Perhaps because the results were about to be made known, he felt a certain nervousness in his heart and had little appetite — he ate only a few pieces of pastry and half a bowl of congee.
He, who was ordinarily the most enthusiastic eater of all, had somehow finished first.
The family had wanted to put on an air of ease, but could not fully conceal their true feelings, each one a mixture of eager anticipation and nervous tension. By convention, the Metropolitan Examination First Place should reliably land within the top ten, yet this year the Emperor had personally reviewed the papers — it was impossible to know exactly what rank Shaojin would achieve.
Only Pei Shaohuai remained perfectly composed, and his appetite was unusually good this morning.
“The Proclamation Ceremony will last nearly two hours — won’t Zhongyai eat a little more?” Pei Shaohuai asked. Attending the grand ceremony was also a physical undertaking.
“Elder Brother, I’ve already eaten my fill.”
Pei Shaojin had already straightened the graduate’s cap with its two flowing ribbons upon his head and was ready to head out, when Pei Shaohuai called for another bowl of congee to be ladled out for himself and said with deliberate casualness: “Zhongyai, you go on ahead — I’ll head out once I’ve finished this bowl of congee.”
“Elder Brother isn’t walking with me?” Shaojin asked.
Pei Shaohuai nodded and said, “I’ll leave a little later.”
Looking at Shaojin’s handsome face and upright bearing, Pei Shaohuai recalled the torrent of spring blossoms that had rained down three years ago, and the fragrant pouches falling like rain from the upper floors, and so, half as a reminder and half in jest, said: “When younger brother Jin rides through the Imperial Avenue, be nimble in dodging.”
Then he added: “When you offer your thanks at the ceremony, don’t be hasty — step forward at a steady pace. The totem directly ahead of you will mark your position.” As for what totem, he would not say.
Shaojin assumed his elder brother was simply saying something auspicious, and replied: “I accept Elder Brother’s good wishes.”
“Off you go.” Pei Shaohuai stepped forward and gave his younger brother a pat on the shoulder.
After Shaojin had gone out and the sound of carriage wheels had faded, a full bowl of congee was set before Pei Shaohuai — yet he did not lift his chopsticks. He gave a light, unhurried belch, and said to everyone with perfect composure: “Shaojin has taken first place.”
His voice was not loud, but his tone carried the weight of a simple statement of fact.
The dining table, already quiet, fell into a silence like held breath, and everyone turned to look at him at once. Pei Bingyuan leaned forward, and the half piece of pastry he had just picked up dropped back into his bowl. He spoke up: “Boyuan, you just said… said what?”
“I said Shaojin is this year’s First Rank, First Place,” Pei Shaohuai replied with certainty, then added, “Yesterday, I was the one who unsealed the papers and filled in the Golden List.”
Something of this magnitude, and he had kept it from everyone for an entire night.
He continued: “Elder brother-in-law of the Yang household achieved second place, and the eldest Xu nephew achieved third place — both personally confirmed by the Emperor. Everyone may begin making preparations.”
Naturally, preparations for receiving and celebrating the good news.
Before the Hall of Supreme Harmony, civil and military officials stood in their ranks on either side of the vermilion steps according to their positions. The red carpet was laid out along the center of the stone steps, and the sound of ceremonial horns shook the air — the occasion was grand and imposing in every way.
Experiencing the Proclamation Ceremony once more, Pei Shaohuai found his state of mind entirely transformed — three years ago he had stood here full of hope and anticipation, his every attention fixed on the calling of the Court of Imperial Entertainments official, his eyes wide with wonder at everything around him. Now, he stood as an observer, watching others receive the honor of their names called from the Golden List.
From a distance, the over three hundred examinees formed a vast mass of blue-robed figures, impossible to distinguish one from another. And yet, on reflection, every single one of them had their own story — only those who stood a head above the rest could be standing here today.
Grand Academician Hu held the golden scroll with both hands and stood on the stone steps of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, facing the vermilion courtyard, and intoned: “In the Wu Zi Year, the Son of Heaven has put virtuous scholars to the examination. By the Emperor’s boundless grace: the First Rank is granted the title of Imperial Scholar; the Second Rank is granted the title of Scholar of Imperial Origin; the Third Rank is granted the title of Scholar of Equivalent Origin.”
He paused, and then the calling of the First Rank began.
Below the hall, the vermilion courtyard fell utterly still — and then the first voice rang out in proclamation.
The sound carried far and long, refusing to fade, and truly possessed the spirit of what the saying captures — “a single proclamation shatters the heavens’ silence.” Only this was heard: “First Rank, First Place — Pei Shaojin—”
Three Court of Imperial Entertainments officials called out in succession, the name passing through three voices before reaching the courtyard below.
Pei Shaohuai stood among the hundred officials and looked toward the newly selected graduates at the center of the vermilion courtyard, searching for his younger brother’s figure. When he spotted Shaojin stepping out of formation, moving in small, faltering steps, his composure momentarily lost — Pei Shaohuai could not help but smile.
Then came: “First Rank, Second Place — Yang Xiangquan—”
“First Rank, Third Place — Xu Yancheng—”
The three top graduates of the Wu Zi Year were of similar age, all in their prime of youth and brilliance. They stepped forward together, bearing an air of noble magnificence — enough to inspire in all who watched the feeling that the realm never lacks for talent when one generation after another rises.
When Pei Shaojin took his place before the great totem of the ascending dragon and the giant sea turtle, the dragon’s head directly in front of him, he recalled the words his elder brother had spoken before he left, and the expression on his elder brother’s face at that moment — and only then did he understand, belatedly, that his elder brother had known the result all along.
The totem his elder brother had spoken of was the ascending dragon and giant sea turtle.
After the top three graduates entered the hall to offer thanks to the Emperor, the second-rank, first-place graduate stepped before the vermilion courtyard and the remaining rankings were called out, and the Proclamation Ceremony came to its conclusion.
Next came the riding of horseback through the Imperial Avenue. Pei Shaohuai left the palace through a side gate and made his way around to the front of the Gate of Heavenly Succession — he naturally could not keep pace with Shaojin and the others, who processed in a grand procession straight down the central axis.
By the time Pei Shaohuai arrived, Shaojin had already changed into the crimson first-place graduate’s robes, and Xu Yancheng and Yang Xiangquan had already had their flowers pinned in place.
He handed his younger brother a paper umbrella and told him to hang it at his waist during the procession as a precaution. Shaojin did not understand why, and said: “Elder Brother, there’s no sign of rain at all right now — why would I need an umbrella?”
“You’ll understand in a moment.” Pei Shaohuai kept him in suspense.
Yang Xiangquan came over, offered a bow, and expressed his thanks: “Before the Palace Examination, I received guidance from my brother-in-law and absorbed some of his scholarly spirit — it is only thanks to that good fortune that I was able to hear my name called today.”
“Elder brother-in-law overstates.”
Xu Yancheng came bounding over, beaming with joy, and the moment he saw Shaohuai, said: “Boyuan, you really were quite disloyal just now! Zhongyai suspected that you might have known the result yesterday and was hiding it from all of us.” He then pressed on with his question: “The Emperor personally appointed me as the Third-Place Scholar — surely it’s because he knew that my features are outstanding and that I most fittingly carry the honor of ‘the talented young man who gathers spring blossoms for the Son of Heaven,’ isn’t it?”
Pei Shaohuai smiled and answered yes, again and again.
“That can’t be right.” Xu Yancheng said again. “There was no small preliminary ceremony this year, and the Emperor hadn’t seen me in person — so how could he know that my features are outstanding?”
Pei Shaohuai said with a laugh: “In Ziheng’s examination registration, it says ‘one pair of ears that stick out conspicuously’ — those few characters are more than enough to demonstrate your distinction.”
“I don’t care — in any case, the world says the Third-Place Scholar is always the most handsome, and I shall simply take that as pure truth.”
The group traded cheerful jokes for a while longer, until officials of the Shuntian Prefectural Office led over tall and spirited horses and reminded the top three that the auspicious hour had arrived and it was time to begin the procession.
Pei Shaohuai bowed to the three of them and said: “Today, ‘the Golden List hangs high with names inscribed in truth — a branch of spring clearly plucked and claimed’ — borrowing a little of the spring breeze, Shaohuai offers his congratulations to you all once more.”
The three bowed in return.
And so the three of them — Shaojin and his companions — mounted their tall horses and began the procession through the Imperial Avenue, while Pei Shaohuai turned and headed back into the palace, returning to the offices of the Six Supervising Secretariats to attend to his duties.
Outside the Imperial Avenue, joy lit up the faces of ten thousand people across the capital, and every hand held spring flowers in full and vibrant bloom.
The first to appear was the first-place graduate.
“How handsome.”
“How dashing.”
“What scholarly bearing.”
And so the flowers were tossed out one after another, each person taking careful aim at the first-place graduate’s black gauze cap — for if a flower stem could catch and hang there, it was the most auspicious omen of all.
Then the second-place graduate appeared.
“This one is also handsome.”
“Also dashing.”
“Also with scholarly bearing.”
And so the crowd ran back to the flower vendors and bought more flowers, tossing the stems out in a fluttering shower — the flower vendors made a fine profit that day.
Last came the third-place scholar.
“This one is also… smiling so happily.”
“He’s holding all the flower stems he’s caught in his arms.”
And so the people gladly fulfilled his wish, and a great cascade of flower stems came raining down.
Pei Shaojin had not at first understood why his elder brother had reminded him that morning to be quick in dodging — after all, the people tossing flower stems were doing so out of goodwill — until he saw someone carrying an entire flowering tree toward him…
When the procession reached a stretch of road flanked on both sides by upper-story buildings, Shaojin finally understood why his elder brother had sent along a paper umbrella.
The first-place graduate’s procession through the Imperial Avenue filled the streets with throngs of celebrating crowds, the jubilant parade making its way outward.
At this very moment, a separate party returning from the relay post station happened to be heading toward the Forbidden City.
Not far off, catching the sounds of drums and gongs and the clamor of celebration, Pei Jue could not help but lift the carriage curtain and look toward the first-place graduate at the head of the procession. The face was too far away to make out clearly, but the bearing of the figure he could recognize.
It was indeed the second grandson of the First Branch.
Pei Jue let the curtain fall. Something of wistfulness and loss settled over his expression, tinged with bewilderment he could not quite resolve. If one could say that his nephew of the senior generation had undergone a sudden awakening in his middle years, and that Pei Shaohuai was a talent that had descended from the heavens, then what was this one to be called? How exactly the First Branch had risen again — all of it seemed to have happened quietly, without anyone noticing.
When the party drew near to the Gate of Heavenly Succession, Pei Jue ordered the convoy to halt and summoned the deputy official of the Southern Embroidered Uniform Guard. He said: “Deputy Official Yu, this official was ambushed along the road and sustained injuries — it is not appropriate to have an audience with the Emperor at this time. The matter of the southern inspection of Fujian, please go ahead and enter the palace on this official’s behalf to make the report.”
“This subordinate receives the command.”
Reporting for duty and claiming credit — something Pei Jue had once prized above all else, he now regarded with a lightness that surprised himself.
After the party parted ways, Pei Jue’s carriage headed toward the outside of Chang’an Gate, where the Golden List for the Wu Zi Year was posted.