Southern Fujian is a place that produces outstanding people and fosters a strong tradition of letters, as could be glimpsed from the prefecture examination papers themselves.

Strip away the layers of pirate raids, sea-bandit plundering, and merchant monopolies — peel back all that gloom — and what is revealed is Fujian’s true face: emerald jade raised by blue-green mountains, white jade born from the surging sea.

After all, since the Jin dynasty, Fujian had regarded reading and the cultivation of letters as the highest calling. When the Tang dynasty established the examination system to select talent, the people of Fujian took the examinations as their highest honor, and by the Song dynasty, the depth of Fujian’s literary tradition and the number of talents it produced had risen to first place in the entire country.

Today, under Da Qing’s rule, Fujian’s tradition of learning had diminished somewhat compared to the Jiangnan region, but it still ranked among the highest of all the provinces.

Fujian had its own deep reserves to draw from.

Pei Shaohuai, as the parent official of a single prefecture, had spent the past three years focusing entirely on suppressing bandits and powerful interests and vigorously opening the seas to commerce, with little effort directed toward education — precisely because Fujian carried this deep reserve. Remove the stone that had been pressing it down, and the young growth would rise on its own.

With a large number of candidates sitting for the prefecture examination, the number of those selected accordingly increased as well, and the long roll of results had to be written in two sections.

As the several county magistrates opened the sealed papers to fill out the roll, Pei Shaohuai looked on to supervise. He went through the household registrations and paternal and maternal lineages of the selected licentiates, and found that six in ten came from families with titles or large, influential households, while four in ten came from poor families or farming households that practiced a combination of farming and learning.

There were more than ten candidates whose essays had slight lapses in prosodic meter and had originally been placed in the middle of the upper portion of the roll. After careful deliberation, Pei Shaohuai concluded that “meaning” outweighed “form,” and he moved these candidates toward the front of the roll. The majority of them turned out to be scholars from impoverished families.

What particularly pleased Pei Shaohuai was that the two poor scholars from Shuang’an Prefecture — Qi Quan’an and Chen Shuxin — had placed third and fifth respectively, both performing even more ably than they had in the county examination.

It was no wonder that when Pei Shaohuai had read their papers, he had felt a certain familiarity.

——

The fourth month is the season of falling flowers — some petals clung to their calyxes, not yet fully let go; some spring rains paused, not yet fully stilled.

On the day the results were posted, the poor scholars who had been staying in the old courtyards at reduced rent rose early, showing traces of weariness from a night of restless anxiety.

Someone gazed absently at the eaves and roof tiles, murmuring to himself, “For those of humble birth and common stock, one wonders whether this year’s roll will ring out or fall silent.”

A “silent roll” meant exactly that — only a handful of names called out, with barely any notice taken. A “ringing roll,” by contrast, meant name after name announced in succession, with many candidates selected.

Someone was packing up their belongings as they said, with a touch of dejection, “In the past several decades, has a roll ever rung out for those of humble birth? Let us only hope it is not so silent as to be entirely without sound — if even that much is achieved, at least the journey here would not have been in vain.”

“Let us not be so pessimistic,” said another student who disagreed with writing off their chances before the results were even posted. “For one thing, this year’s Chief Examiner holds the title of Zhuangyuan and is a man of integrity — surely he will mark with fairness; for another, this year, with the lodging expenses lifted, the number of candidates from impoverished families is three or four times what it usually is. Who is to say there are no concealed pearls gathering dust among them?”

“Very true — let us all go together and wait for the posting. The results will speak for themselves.”

When the sky had just begun to lighten, they shouldered their bundles and made their way out. Before stepping across the threshold, they all, as if by unspoken agreement, turned to look back at the old courtyard where they had lived for half a month. They carried their bundles because they lacked the confidence — if their name was not on the roll, they would simply head home then and there, and save a few more days of expenses. They looked back because they did not know in which year they might come again to sit for this examination.

The long roll was divided into left and right, upper and lower sections, with people pressing in to look from all four directions. By the chen hour, on a bright late-spring morning, the area outside the examination hall was a mass of bodies pressed together.

As runners planted their staffs sideways to hold the crowd back, several official clerks carefully carried two scrolled-up long sheets and pasted them to the wall of the examination hall. At the same time, riders bearing good tidings set out from the prefectural yamen, and the noise rose to its height.

The scholars from poor families who had once gathered under a single oil lamp in the old courtyard to study through the night found themselves astonished to see many familiar names appearing on the roll. They checked the household registrations to be certain, and there was no mistake.

No one could say who started it, but someone called out, singing the names from the roll aloud. Those nearby joined in, and soon every student who could see the long sheet took up the chant — each voice growing louder than the last, like a wave that spread outward through the crowd and into the streets and lanes beyond.

In this way, it truly was a ringing roll.

Even those from poor families whose names did not appear on the roll were greatly moved and encouraged.

So long as the roll still held a place for them, the road might be long and the steps slow — yet one day they would arrive.

“A thousand voices singing the roll” — the story spread that same day, becoming a thing of renown.

——

With the prefecture examination concluded, two or three days later the prefectural yamen hosted an evening banquet, at which the newly selected licentiates, dressed in their round-collared blue robes, came to pay their respects to their examination mentor.

Pei Shaohuai, twenty-five years old, stood in the center of the main hall in his official robes and court boots, receiving the formal obeisances of his many students.

Among those gathered below, there were young people of fourteen or fifteen who had passed on their first attempt, and there were also middle-aged men of thirty or forty who were considerably older than Pei Shaohuai.

The formalities concluded, the head of the prefecture examination list stood at the front and recited a formal expression of gratitude, which included these words: “…The examination mentor stands as a teacher and model for one locality, cultivates the scholarly spirit of one locality, virtue as the highest example, artistry as the mold and measure, your brilliant and illustrious light…”

This was a conventional style of expressing gratitude for the mentor’s recognition.

After hearing it through, Pei Shaohuai shook his head with a smile and said, “This is no false modesty on my part — southern Fujian’s tradition of letters has long been flourishing and renowned to all the world. That is not to my credit.”

He elaborated, “Since the examinations of the Tang and Song dynasties, in Fujian, household upon household and neighbor upon neighbor have taken Confucian studies as their vocation; the abundance of talent the examinations have yielded here is unmatched in the realm. In Fuzhou, every family has its learning hall and engages with poetry and the classics; in Jianningfu, those among the people who are gifted tend toward letters; in Quanzhou, households study poetry and practice scholarship; in Tong’an and Nan’an, the land is small, yet men of learning respect books and rites… In every way and every place, even on thin-soiled fishing grounds, they do not forget to use their resources to support their children in studying, and take their children’s love of books as the highest honor of the family.”

A tradition of this depth could not be created in a matter of a few years’ time.

What Pei Shaohuai had done was built upon this very foundation.

Having enumerated all of this, Pei Shaohuai then said, “A rare pearl hidden in a box, veiled in dust — the world for a time may not see its light. What I have done is no more than to wipe it clean a little, allowing something of its brilliance to emerge.”

The catalogue of achievements stirred in the students’ hearts a deepening love for their native land; the phrase “a rare pearl veiled in dust” called to mind all the hardships this place had endured, kindling in them a great aspiration.

The students understood perfectly well that their mentor’s words were at once self-deprecating and an exhortation to them — it was their responsibility to restore the pearl to its full radiance.

Every eye that looked up at him shone with a bright, intent light.

“The brilliance of that pearl is not a matter of a few families or a few individuals occupying high positions at court. Though the blue robe of a licentiate is no more than the most modest of academic titles, one must nonetheless have the spirit of a man of letters — to stand upright and sit straight, and never lose one’s original heart.”

“We respectfully receive our mentor’s teaching.”

After a few beats of silence, a middle-aged student in the crowd called out in a resounding voice, “Your student now understands the reason he was selected!” The way he said it, it sounded as though his selection had been entirely unexpected — something even he himself could not quite believe.

Everyone turned to look. Before them stood a man of nearly forty, his blue robe not only ill-fitting but patched in several places.

The crowd parted, and the middle-aged student stepped forward several paces, continuing, “The court has been promoting the policy of paying taxes in silver and measuring land to equalize labor obligations, and with contributions from the clan, I was at last able to step away from the paddy fields and the fishing boats and sit for this examination. I only meant to fulfill a wish I had carried for several decades. Never did I expect to see my name on the roll when the results were posted. Having heard Mentor’s words today, I understand at last — the fairness and shelter Mentor provided was not confined to that free lodging in the old courtyards.”

He recited, “Rich earth nurtures the green shoots into growth; a tall tree’s shade is cool through summer’s height. To have been able to sit for this prefecture examination — what great fortune it was.”

Others nodded in agreement.

After hearing only a few lines, Pei Shaohuai asked, “Are you Gong Ju from Anxi County?”

The man was taken aback. “Your student is indeed he, Mentor,” he replied.

“The view you expressed — that ‘the flourishing of learning depends not on the number of schools but on whether the common people can afford to send their children to learn; and the quality of a school depends not on the height of its buildings but on whether there are worthy teachers behind the three-foot lectern’ — I find it very much in agreement with my own thinking.”

What had been no more than a momentary feeling expressed in an essay — and yet the mentor had guessed his name from these words alone, and could recall the content of his paper. Moreover, Gong Ju had placed only in the middle of the roll, not among the front ranks — which meant the mentor had given careful and impartial attention to every single paper.

“Your student ventures to ask: is there any hope for him to advance further?”

“Bring me Gong Ju’s paper.”

It was supposed to be a banquet, yet not a single dish nor a single flask of wine was brought to the table — instead, papers were produced one by one and laid out on the table.

Everyone was so intent on listening to their mentor’s guidance that they forgot entirely about the banquet.

By the time the sky began to darken, and the food had grown cold and the wine had gone flat, the students only then recalled the evening banquet.

“Mentor, drink a cup with us.”

In the glow of the lanterns, their soft light shimmering in the wine cups, everyone raised their cups and drank together.

——

The prefecture examination was over, and come the following morning Pei Shaohuai and the others prepared to board a boat back to Shuang’an Prefecture.

On this last night, Associate Magistrate Li made one final round of inspection through the old courtyards, and happened upon a group of students returning in high spirits, arms full of large clay jars. It seemed they had pooled their meager resources to buy a few jars of rough wine to celebrate.

Associate Magistrate Li said by way of reminder, “It is late in the night — keep the noise down when you are drinking, so as not to disturb the people nearby.”

In the lantern light, the students’ expressions turned sheepish. “Sir,” they said, “these are not wine.”

All those jars — not wine? Associate Magistrate Li asked, “Then what are they?”

“Lamp oil.”

The students from poor families explained, “We have been lodging here and, by good fortune, passed the prefecture examination. Today, after hearing what our Mentor said, we were greatly moved, and wanted to do something within our ability to leave something behind for those who come after us. Our bedding and belongings are our own — they are not suitable to leave here. We talked it over, and decided that what stayed with us most during these past two weeks, what moved us most deeply, was the memory of everyone gathering their oil into one lamp to read through the night… so we pooled our money and bought these few jars of lamp oil. The cart hire was too expensive, so we carried them ourselves — that is why we were slow returning.”

Lamp oil was considerably more expensive than wine. These several large jars would cost at least two taels of silver.

Associate Magistrate Li looked at these lean scholars, their backs damp with sweat in the spring air, and said, “You must also look after yourselves first, and then slowly do more in time.”

“Thank you for your concern, sir. Now that we have our licentiate title, we can go home and teach young children their letters or copy documents and do accounts — we will not be too badly off. For now, we can do what little we can.”

“Get inside quickly — wipe off that sweat and rest early.” Associate Magistrate Li said, his voice touched with emotion.

When his rounds were done, on his way back, looking at the faint lights in the residences lining both sides of the road, Associate Magistrate Li fell into deep thought.

It was not only those few students who had moved him.

To light the lamp on one’s own desk required nothing more than striking a spark — but to light the lamp on another’s desk was not so easy a thing.

From Changzhi in Shanxi to Shuang’an in Fujian — across thousands of li of travel — it had all been worth it.

——

“Fujian rain kneads the fragrance of blossoms not yet come to light; lifting the curtain one suddenly feels the summer breeze turn mild.”

The fifth month arrived, and Fujian entered the season of jasmine blooms. The intoxicating fragrance, carried on the first breezes of early summer, brought a quiet peace to the heart.

In the rear courtyard of the Pei residence, Yang Shiyue had asked servants to bring in several jasmine plants in full bloom, and had taken out her needlework basket. She was now guiding Little Wind through the basics of needlework, hand in hand.

“Mother will teach you how to embroider a small flower,” Yang Shiyue said.

In this world, needlework was a skill no woman could avoid, regardless of wealth or poverty.

The personal effects of one’s husband always had to be made by her own hands.

This was Little Wind’s first time practicing needlework. She had promised her mother she would try, and held the fine needle in her small hand, going up and down — but her stitches were somewhat clumsy. Her mind was elsewhere; every few stitches she would glance over toward the study, her expression anxious, wanting to finish quickly. The result was that her stitches grew rougher and rougher.

“Mother, it is not that Little Wind does not want to practice…” the little girl said. “But if I waste the time here, when Father comes home this evening, I will lose the recitation competition with my brother. I lost once just two days ago.”

She had been planning to turn the tables today.

This was only a trial run, and Yang Shiyue had long since seen that her daughter’s heart was not in it — she had no intention of pressing her.

When it came to needlework and embroidery, Yang Shiyue herself had a genuine fondness for it — otherwise, how could she have embroidered those neat and intricate designs onto the silver coins? But she liked it — that did not mean Little Wind had to as well.

Little Wind took after her father, with a love for learning and scholarship. That was a fine thing. There was no need to confine her with needlework. Yang Shiyue thought of Pei Shaohuai’s third and fourth sisters, and even the last trace of uncertainty dissolved.

“All right, all right — I could see long ago that your heart was not in needlework. Be careful not to prick your fingers.” Yang Shiyue carefully took the fine needle from her daughter’s hand and placed it back in the needle case, then smiled. “We will let your father decide for you.”

Little Wind gave Yang Shiyue a kiss and said, “Mother is the best.”

Then she added, “Mother, the flowers you have grown are so fragrant — but Little Wind does not want to embroider flowers with a needle.”

“Then what do you like?”

At that, Little Wind scurried into the study and brought out something she had treasured for many years, holding it up with a triumphant air. “Mother, you know already — why do you still ask me?”

What she held in her hands were the examination flowers worn by her father and her second uncle when they had been named Zhuangyuan.