Among the full hundred candidates, only one or two would be selected — and among those eliminated, there was often no shortage of men with fine literary talent and considerable ability. This was especially true for papers that had already been recommended by the eighteen chambers’ examiners, yet had ultimately not made it onto the final roll — there were insufficient places to admit them, yet to discard them outright was also a pity.

In order to soothe the spirits of those who had failed, to encourage a culture of continued learning, and to ensure no talented person was left behind by the court, the court had specially established the provincial examinations’ supplementary roll, placing the top twenty who had just barely fallen short on this roll, as a way of urging candidates to strive further.

Better than nothing.

The supplementary roll was not entirely without purpose either — a candidate on the provincial supplementary roll could be admitted to the Imperial Academy, and once enough academic credits had been accumulated, an official rank could be awarded, allowing entry into government service. If a candidate had fallen just short in two successive provincial examinations and appeared on the supplementary roll both times, he could also obtain the qualification to sit for the metropolitan examinations — it was not without a path forward.

But the supplementary roll was, after all, still the supplementary roll. It was not the same as having passed the provincial examinations. Being first on the supplementary roll meant being the leader of those who had failed, and it would only cause others to feel all the more sympathetic on your behalf.

Some candidates who made it onto the supplementary roll were consumed by self-pity, lamenting why they had fallen just that little bit short. If this went on too long, a kind of mental torment would take root in their hearts, and they would be unable to move past it for a long, long time — that sort of thing happened often enough.

When that happened, this “consolation prize” would have the opposite of its intended effect.

In sum, Pei Shaohuai’s first place was the top-ranking graduate of the provincial examinations, while Pei Shaowen’s first place was the leader of the group who had failed — the two were in no way comparable.

The benefit of the supplementary roll, while it might be of use to a candidate from a humble family, was rather useless for the Minister’s mansion, and would only invite ridicule.

And on top of it all, both were surnamed Pei.

Sure enough, busybodies inside the teahouse had already been whispering about it in low voices, fanning their folding fans to cover their mouths as they let out peals of mocking laughter.

Pei Shaowen felt as if every person in the teahouse was staring at him and sneering. He tugged at Pei Shaoyu’s sleeve in a state of agitation and said urgently: “Second Elder Brother, let’s go — let’s leave at once.” It was plain he had taken quite a blow.

The two brothers hurried out of the teahouse.

Pei Shaohuai thought to himself that Pei Shaowen cared so deeply about examination results and had such a fierce competitive spirit that it would likely be difficult for him to recover from this setback. But the Earl’s mansion and the Minister’s mansion had already fallen into a state of open estrangement, and Pei Shaohuai had neither the leisure nor the inclination to concern himself with any of it — it had nothing to do with him.

Seeing that the crowd before the roll had gradually begun to thin, Pei Shaohuai suggested: “Shall we go and look at the roll?”

The group went to stand before it. The long roll bore the heading “Great Qing Dynasty, Guiyou Year, Northern Metropolitan Circuit Provincial Examinations, Main Roll” in large characters, followed by the names and native places of the successful candidates in their ranked order, with annotations in small regular script noting their ancestry for the past three generations.

Pei Shaohuai’s name stood first.

Jiang Ziyun looked tense, his hands trembling slightly. He searched for his own name starting from the very bottom of the main roll and working upward; when he had gone halfway through and still had not found it, his color had already begun to drain.

Pei Shaohuai had been reading from the top down, and at the thirty-second place he spotted Jiang Ziyun’s name. He called out happily: “Brother Ziyun, your name is right here — ranked thirty-second.”

Jiang Ziyun froze, then turned around, his face moving from total disbelief to wild elation. After a long moment, he walked quickly over and indeed saw his own name there.

“I passed?”

“Brother Ziyun passed.”

Pei Shaojin and Xu Yancheng stepped forward to congratulate Jiang Ziyun.

Afterward, Pei Shaohuai found the names of the Chen Xingqing and Chen Xingchen brothers. What surprised him somewhat was that Chen Xingqing, whose eight-legged essays had always been outstanding, had ended up ranked only seventy-eighth, while Chen Xingchen had come from behind to take twenty-seventh place.

There was also talk among the candidates below the roll:

“I hear that this time the grading of papers was different from before — the chamber examiners and chief readers worked day and night to go through all three sessions’ papers before making their recommendations. All three sessions’ papers were of equal importance, and those whose legal judgments and policy responses were of inferior quality were not selected.”

“So that’s why — many candidates with fine literary reputations couldn’t even make it onto the supplementary roll. Small wonder, small wonder!”

“Deputy Minister Zhang is a man of practical action — we should have seen this coming.”

Many candidates joined the discussion — some with regret, some with support, some with indignation — but not a single person dared utter one word of criticism, since the chief examiner selected candidates on behalf of the court, acting under the Emperor’s orders.

Pei Shaohuai listened and understood the situation clearly. If judged purely on eight-legged essays, Chen Xingqing would naturally rank above his brother; but when it came to policy questions, Chen Xingchen had some genuine insights of his own.

Jiang Ziyun also heard, and came over to Pei Shaohuai, made a bow of respect, and said: “I had just been wondering how, with essays like mine, I could have placed in the top half of the roll — it turns out the policy questions made all the difference. Jiang is deeply grateful to younger brother Huai for discussing current affairs, history, and poetry with me in ordinary times, and for teaching me arithmetic and military strategy, which has greatly benefited me and made up for my shortcomings.”

For a candidate from a farming family background, doing well in policy response questions was even more difficult.

Pei Shaohuai also returned the bow, saying: “Brother Ziyun is too generous. Your legal notes were of great use to me as well.”

Xu Yancheng said: “The two of you needn’t be so modest — why not leave your notes for Shaojin and me, and let us have a look?”

“You are clever enough to take advantage of others,” Pei Shaohuai said with a laugh.

Before the examination grounds, the messengers bearing congratulatory reports had already mounted up and were ready to set out — it was time to go back and wait to receive them. Chang Zhou said: “Young Master, the carriage is ready.”

He added: “I’ve also prepared a carriage for Master Jiang.” Now that Jiang Ziyun had passed the provincial examinations, the proper form of address had changed from “Young Master Jiang” to “Master Jiang.”

Jiang Ziyun was about to decline, but Pei Shaohuai said: “Brother Ziyun has already passed the provincial examinations — going back promptly is what matters most. There’s no need to stand on ceremony over small details.”

Jiang Ziyun made a bow of thanks and accepted.

……

……

A servant had already rushed ahead to the Earl’s mansion to report the good news, to collect a handsome sum of congratulatory cash worth several months of regular wages.

The Pei household gathered in joy.

The Old Master was overjoyed and hurried first to the ancestral hall to burn several sticks of incense, informing the ancestors one by one that the eldest grandson had taken the top honors in the provincial examinations — and that the Earl’s mansion had finally turned a corner.

The Old Madam was so happy she was nearly at a loss for words, first giving orders to prepare tea, then giving orders to prepare the congratulatory cash, her face flushed and glowing.

Lin Shi wept for joy, continuously wiping away tears. For her and for Ying’er, the fact that her son had taken the top honors was of extraordinary significance.

Concubine Shen comforted her: “Master Jin’s eldest brother has always been determined and striving since he was young — his wish has been fulfilled. On such a joyous day, Madam should be overjoyed.”

“It is because I am so overjoyed,” Lin Shi said, composing herself. She then added: “Three years from now, it will be Master Jin’s turn — both brothers are a credit to the family.”

Pei Shaohuai had just returned from outside and was urged to change into fresh clothes and wait to receive the congratulatory report.

The congratulatory messengers set out in several teams, reporting to each household starting from the bottom of the main roll and working up to the top in order. By the time they arrived at the Earl’s mansion, it was already close to the end of the hour of Si. The messenger had only just dismounted when Nanny Shen had already led a group of people to scatter copper coins on the street out front — the tinkling of copper against copper mingled with cheers of congratulation, and the whole scene was tremendously lively.

The lead messenger called out in a long, loud cry: “A congratulatory report—!” — a booming, resonant call that carried far. He held the red congratulatory notice and strode forward in long steps, arriving at the entrance of the Earl’s mansion.

Pei Shaohuai was already standing at the main gate to receive the report.

After his identity was verified, the messenger announced in a clear and rhythmic cadence: “Congratulatory tidings — we congratulate Pei Shaohuai, gentleman of Wanping County, Shuntian Prefecture, Northern Metropolitan Circuit — ranked first on the provincial examinations main roll!”

A fifteen-year-old top-ranking provincial graduate — enough for the capital city to chatter about over tea for a good long while.

……

The following day, the successful candidates gathered together to express their gratitude to their presiding examiners and chamber examiners, and to feast and enjoy themselves with wine and good cheer. The Book of Songs says: “How the deer cry out! They eat the celery in the fields. I have excellent guests; I play my zither and blow my sheng.” This was how such gatherings came to be called the Deer-Cry Banquet.

The candidates changed out of their blue robes into green ones, wore flowers in their hair, and draped themselves in red. They went in procession to the District Tablet to pay reverence at the Confucian Temple, raised funds as a group to present a plaque to their presiding examiner, played music and sang the Deer-Cry chapter, and only then took their seats and raised their cups.

Pei Shaohuai, having been designated the top-ranking graduate, went to offer a toast to Deputy Minister Zhang.

Deputy Minister Zhang saw that the youngster who had once barely come up to his shoulder had now grown into a fine young man — handsome and clear-featured, upright and striking in bearing. Recalling that even as a boy this young man had possessed original and incisive views, and that the essays in the provincial examinations were steady and composed without lacking a sharp edge, he knew that Pei Shaohuai had been studying diligently and making steady progress all these years.

Deputy Minister Zhang was unstinting in his praise of Pei Shaohuai, extolling his essays to all the successful candidates in a loud voice, and then asked: “For next year’s spring metropolitan examinations — will you give it a try?”

“You flatter me, Presiding Examiner.” Pei Shaohuai replied. “The learning of this world is inexhaustible in its study — your student knows there are still areas where I am lacking, and I intend to refine myself for a few more years before choosing the right time to sit for the examinations.”

His urgency in sitting for the provincial examinations had been for the sake of the Earl’s mansion, for the sake of his family — now that he had achieved his goal, there was no such rush regarding the metropolitan examinations.

After all, at his age, even if he were fortunately admitted to the metropolitan and palace examinations, when it came to receiving an official appointment, he would derive no benefit whatsoever — from a long-term perspective, the disadvantages would outweigh the advantages.

Deputy Minister Zhang reflected for a moment and said: “So be it — a blade is made sharper through a thousand grindings; steel is forged to its finest through a hundred smeltings. Traveling and gaining experience in the world is of benefit in steadying one’s character.” Then, showing great regard for this talent, he said: “If you have a mind to come to the Ministry of War to train and study in practice, my door is open to you.”

Once Pei Shaohuai entered the Imperial Academy, he would have the qualification to undergo practical training and apprenticeship.

“I thank my Presiding Examiner.”

The other successful candidates were naturally envious.

After the tribute to the examiner, the successful candidates drank wine and composed poetry, each one brushing his finest calligraphy to leave behind inscriptions while the occasion was at its most glorious — this was when the mood at the Deer-Cry Banquet was at its highest. Pei Shaohuai made the rough acquaintance of some fellow graduates, then left behind a poem as a token of the meeting, and took his leave.

Such scenes of mutual acquaintance and mutual flattery through verses — they were genuinely not to his taste.

……

As for the matter of celebrating his passing the provincial examinations, Pei Shaohuai’s own inclination was for the family to celebrate quietly at home — there was no need to go to the extravagance of throwing grand banquets for the capital’s nobles and wealthy.

This would serve to cultivate the Earl’s mansion’s reputation for refined and distinguished conduct.

But letters of congratulation and calling cards came in an unbroken stream — some calling in person, others extending invitations to family dinners.

Pei Shaohuai said to his mother: “If it’s someone we have already been on close terms with, naturally we cannot brush them aside directly — just say we’ll meet again when the occasion presents itself. But for those we’ve had no dealings with before, we must then distinguish between whether they are among the honest and upright officials of the court, or the meritorious and powerful, or the newly favored of the court… Responding to these calling cards is no easy matter.”

This was an art in itself — responding to the wrong calling card was sure to give offence.

Lin Shi let out a sigh and said: “What a joy that also brings its troubles.” She then said: “When I first came to the mansion as a bride, I always felt that no one ever invited the Earl’s mansion to anything. Now, thanks to your standing, I find myself having to learn how to gracefully decline… My horizon has always been too narrow — I should have thought this day would come and sought advice from others in advance.”

“If Mother wishes to seek guidance, the Jingying Marquis household is an excellent choice.”

What the Pei family needed was precisely the kind of conduct and reputation the Jingying Marquis household embodied, and the two families were currently on close terms.

“What about these?” Lin Shi asked with a smile.

In her hand was a thick stack of calling cards, all stating an intention to call with their daughters — not a few of them from noble households.

“If there are those we simply cannot refuse…” Pei Shaohuai said. “We can only trouble Mother and Elder Sister — female family members meeting female guests is more appropriate.”

Lin Shi understood what her son meant, and said with a laugh: “I understand — you just focus on your studies in peace.”

……

……

That day, Xu Zhan came to the Earl’s mansion with Lian Jie’er and his two children, and said to Pei Shaohuai: “My thanks to my brother-in-law and Senior Brother Lin for the timely warning — the matter of Father going to serve as examiner at Yingtian Prefecture has been settled, and a letter arrived yesterday saying he will return to the capital shortly.”

Xu Zhan was glad, but also heaved a sigh of relief — clearly the situation had had its dangerous moments, and he recounted them to Pei Shaohuai one by one.

When Xu Zhan’s father, Master Xu, arrived at the examination grounds of Yingtian Prefecture, he followed the regulations and selected ten local chamber examiners, and together with the eight he had brought from the capital, made eighteen in total; combined with thirty-six chief readers, all drawn from well-known academies throughout Yingtian Prefecture.

In the days before the examinations, the chief and associate examiners and the chamber examiners gathered together to discuss the question-setting.

The chamber examiners each brought out questions they had prepared in advance for Master Xu to select from, and with slight modifications, these would become the final questions. This had always been the practice.

Having received Pei Shaohuai’s forewarning, Master Xu put on a show of following the old practice in selecting the questions. However, on the evening before the examinations began, Master Xu declared that the questions were inconsistent with the current Emperor’s governing philosophy and rejected them all one by one, pulling everyone together to burn the midnight oil turning through books, devising entirely new questions — the majority of which were chosen by the chief and associate examiners themselves.

After the nine days of examinations were over, the sealing, transcription, and proofreading were all personally supervised by military officers.

The vermillion copies were distributed to the various chambers for grading. During this interlude, Master Xu sent a confidential memorial to the Emperor, stating: “Your servant fears there may be the taint of collusion and cheating in the Southern Metropolitan Circuit provincial examinations. So as not to fail Your Majesty’s trust, the matter of selecting worthy candidates may need to be delayed somewhat… once the various chambers submit their recommended papers, this matter will become clear of itself, and your servant will report to Your Majesty again.”

This was dispatched by a military officer at urgent speed to the capital.

Five days later, the various chambers had settled on the papers they wished to recommend and sent them to Master Xu’s quarters.

Master Xu said to all the chamber examiners: “My fellow colleagues have worked hard. This official was entrusted by the Emperor to select worthy talent for the state, and cannot but be most careful. Allow me to ask one more time on this final occasion — are all of you certain about the papers you wish to recommend? Is there anything you feel hasty about, and wish to reconsider?”

Everyone assumed this was merely the customary formality and said nothing.

They did not know that this was the final chance Master Xu was giving them.

“These papers all bear the signatures and seals of your recommendations,” Master Xu reminded them.

Still no one spoke.

Master Xu immediately ordered all the papers sealed, had the ten local chamber examiners kept apart and questioned one by one, and after interrogating them, indeed found evidence of malpractice.

Just as Lin Shiyun had said, those meaningless function words had served as a coded signal for identifying particular papers. Because the questions had been changed at the last moment, the arrangement of the function words made the sentences look strangely awkward — even old scholars steeped in learning could see that something was wrong.

The recommended papers became the most damning evidence.

With the matter fully investigated, Master Xu sent another memorial to the Emperor — just two brief sentences: “Your servant has confirmed: there is indeed fraud. The matter of selecting talent is urgent; your servant will return to the capital to report the full details to Your Majesty in person.”

Of the eighteen chambers of examiners, only eight remained. Master Xu led everyone through the night, burning the midnight oil, to re-read all the papers, and published the Southern Metropolitan Circuit provincial examinations osmanthus roll at the start of the ninth month.

At that time, on the Emperor’s desk in the Imperial Study, lay two sets of memorials — one from Master Xu, saying “there is indeed fraud,” and the other from the Left Deputy Minister of the Ministry of Rites. He had not directly impeached Master Xu, but rather impeached the officials of Yingtian Prefecture for inadequate supervision, which had allowed improper practices to run rampant and fraudulent conduct to become widespread, and earnestly requested the Emperor to investigate thoroughly, citing many specific facts.

On the surface, it was an impeachment of the Prefect of Yingtian, yet if the investigation went all the way to the truth, the chief examiner for this year’s examinations would inevitably bear a charge of having failed to exercise adequate supervision over the examination — a punishment not particularly severe, but sufficient to cost Master Xu the post of Minister.

“Minister Li, what do you make of this matter?” the Emperor asked the Minister of Justice.

“Your servant believes that Deputy Minister Xu’s memorial came first, and therefore his account should naturally be taken as the authoritative one. Regardless of whether it is credited as meritorious supervision or commended as effective reporting, these two contributions should both be counted to Deputy Minister Xu’s credit.” The Minister of Justice said.

“Well said.” The Emperor declared. “Let the word go forth: Deputy Minister Xu has rendered meritorious service in the selection of worthy talent, and is to return to the capital on schedule to receive his reward. As for the matter of the fraud in the Southern Metropolitan Circuit provincial examinations, it is the responsibility of the Ministry of Justice to conduct a thorough investigation — and not only the various prefectures of the Southern Metropolitan Circuit are to be investigated; any at the court who may have colluded in this fraud shall likewise be punished.”

“Your servant receives the order.”

……

……

In autumn, the osmanthus perfume was rich and full. Ying Jie’er, knowing that the wife of the Marquis was fond of foods that carried a floral fragrance, had made some osmanthus soft cakes to send over. Fearing the sweetness might be cloying, she had not added honey, but instead had cooked up some malt syrup and added that in, so it did not overwhelm the delicate fragrance of the osmanthus.

The Marchioness praised them again and again, saying: “Ying’er, if you could often keep me company, I would be overjoyed beyond measure.”

Ying Jie’er’s cheeks grew a little rosy. She lowered her eyes and said: “If the Marchioness is pleased, I shall send some over often.”

“Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.” The Marchioness said “wonderful” three times over.

After Ying Jie’er left, the Marchioness had her third grandson — the one lost in his arithmetic studies — summoned. With great delight she said: “Your grandmother has set her eye on a match for you — I wanted to ask your opinion.”

Who could have expected that Chen Xingchen’s reaction was extremely strong — he hadn’t even heard who it was before he shook his head, saying: “That won’t do — your grandson already has a young lady I admire.”

The Marchioness knew the principle that a forced melon is not sweet, and could only say with regret: “What an unfortunate timing — what a pity, when she has such fine learning and also makes excellent pastries and has her own opinions and knows the proper rules of conduct…”

“What did Grandmother just say?”

“I said that young lady has fine learning, her own opinions, knows the proper rules of conduct, and also makes excellent pastries.” The Marchioness said. “Since you’re not fated to meet, let it be — stop asking.”

Chen Xingchen was taken aback for a moment, then said: “But the young lady your grandson admires also makes excellent pastries and has learning and her own opinions…”