On the ninth day of the eighth month, the first session of the North Metropolitan Region Provincial Examination commenced. The chief examiner was the Minister of the Imperial Stud, Master Lu Yanxue. The questions he set were, fittingly for his name, grounded in classical scholarship, and the policy questions, fittingly for his office, concerned the deployment and management of military horses.
For instance, in the first session, there were three questions on the Four Books and four on the Five Classics. One of the History questions read: “In the days of Kings Wen and Wu, their wisdom and sagacity illuminated all, and their ministers both great and small all harbored loyalty and virtue” — examining the principles governing the relationship between ruler and minister.
In the examination hall, when a great many candidates first saw the question, they were momentarily taken aback. They were accustomed to a sharp and incisive style of writing, and suddenly encountering such a classical and antiquated question, their pens found it difficult to rein in that sharpness and convey meaning in a more restrained and flowing manner.
Pei Shaojin and Xu Yancheng remained calm and collected. The teacher had once cautioned them: examiner questions could change in a thousand unexpected ways, and what a candidate must absolutely avoid was altering their writing style mid-examination. One need only answer in the manner one was accustomed to.
The two answered the questions steadily.
At the Earl’s estate, the old matriarch and Concubine Shen fasted and prayed to the gods day after day, entreating the Star of Literature to protect them — they were even more anxious than Shaojin, who was inside the examination grounds.
On this day, Lin Shi came to Pei Shaohuai’s courtyard and asked him: “The character ‘Lu’ in the name of the Autumn Examination chief examiner — is it the same ‘Lu’ as in the name of the Miss Lu that Shaojin is fond of?”
Pei Shaohuai nodded: “It is the same Lu.”
Lin Shi asked further: “In your estimation, how much of a chance does Shaojin have of passing the examination this time?”
Pei Shaohuai was unsure why his mother had suddenly raised these questions, but answered honestly: “Barring any unforeseen circumstances, with Shaojin’s scholarship, he should certainly appear on the list. As for what ranking he places at, that will require a measure of luck.”
Lin Shi nodded in understanding, then spoke her mind in a measured way, saying: “After Shaojin passes the examination, Master Lu will become his examination mentor. At the Deer Crying Banquet, he will need to perform the rites of a student before his mentor, and should prepare suitable gifts properly — it is important to make a good first impression, so that the path runs more smoothly when the time comes to propose the match.”
Her thinking was meticulous — she had already worked her way to this point.
To never be harsh toward her stepchildren, but instead to plan on their behalf at every turn, was truly rare. Pei Shaohuai had been about to praise his mother’s generosity of spirit, but felt it was not quite appropriate, and found himself at a loss for how to respond.
It was Lin Shi who saw through what he was thinking, and laughed lightly, saying: “What person in this world harbors no private thoughts?”
A son of fine spirit and ambition, a mother of steadfast virtue — Lin Shi looked at Shaohuai with warm satisfaction and said: “It is only because Shaohuai excels in every way that this mother’s private thoughts become too small to matter, not worth the carrying out — that is all that makes me seem generous.” She spoke plainly, in front of her own son — what appeared to be kindness was, in part, also self-interest.
Nine days later, Pei Shaohuai drove the carriage to the examination grounds to await Shaojin’s return from the Autumn Examinations. Outside the grounds, a long line of carriages stretched out at dusk, their shadows slanting as the families waiting to welcome their sons and brothers home craned their necks toward the gates.
With a heavy creak, the southern gate was pushed open. Those students who had fainted or fallen ill in the examination cells were carried out first — the gravest among them barely clinging to life, the slighter ones still struggling to rise and insisting they had more answers to write, lost in a daze, no longer aware of when or where they were.
Pei Shaohuai sat in the carriage and, through the crowd of heads, dimly caught sight of Pei Shaowen being carried out on a stretcher by the constables, his hand still tightly clutching a writing brush with ink not yet dry. The constables were shouting loudly: “Is anyone here for Pei Shaowen? Is anyone here for Pei Shaowen?…”
The people from the Pei Minister’s estate pushed their way forward in a flustered rush. The second old matriarch grasped her youngest grandson’s hand, her lined brow deeply furrowed, calling out his childhood name in a plaintive voice, her expression deeply complex — equal parts anxious concern and reproachful resentment.
Pei Shaowen opened his eyes and said weakly: “Grandmother… your grandson has finished writing…” Only then did his hand release the brush and let it fall. And then he sank into a deep unconscious sleep.
One could see the tenacity and fixation that had sustained him through the grueling nine-day, three-session ordeal.
The examination grounds had nearly emptied of people before Shaojin and Yancheng were finally seen walking out at an unhurried pace. Their faces carried some fatigue, but their condition was good overall, with an air of quiet confidence and the assurance of men who knew how well they had done — when one’s scholarship runs deep, one knows after putting down the brush whether the essay is good or not.
On the carriage ride back to the estate, the brothers sat across from each other inside.
Having completed all three sessions, Shaojin’s body was exhausted, but his mind was still in a state of heightened excitement, his eyes bright with animation. He seemed quite satisfied with his performance in the examination hall. Pei Shaohuai asked: “How did it go?”
When Shaojin was in high spirits, he did not mask his feelings before his elder brother. He said directly: “I have not let down the hopes of our family, nor the teachings of our teacher, nor what I have learned and studied — nor…the promise of a certain cherished young lady.”
“That is good.” Pei Shaohuai replied.
Following the Autumn Examinations, in accordance with the regulations of the court, the chief examiner was required to complete the grading together with all the room examiners within fifteen days, with the list to be posted in the ninth month.
The osmanthus blooms scattered fragrance for ten li, passersby carried the sweet scent on their persons — the small yellow blossoms were in full bloom. It was time for the results to be posted.
The people of the Pei Minister’s estate took up their position in front of the posting board early, so as to be the first to carry the good news back to the estate for celebration. And it was not in vain — Pei Shaowen had spent three years exhausting his heart and spirit, throwing himself at his studies with near-obsessive intensity, and in the end he had placed sixth on the main list, a very respectable result.
The Five Classics are poetry, history, rites, divination, and the Spring and Autumn Annals. The top scorer among candidates who specialized in each Classic was called a “Five Classics Champion” — the top five positions on the provincial list. Pei Shaowen’s primary Classic was the Book of History, and placing sixth meant he was second among the Book of History candidates.
Who, then, was first among the Book of History candidates?
Looking further at the list, one could see at the very top — First place: Pei Shaojin, of Wanping County, Shuntian Prefecture, North Metropolitan Region, primary Classic: Book of History… followed by smaller characters recording his marital status, three generations of ancestors and their names, siblings, background, and so on.
It was beyond any doubt the Pei Family’s son Pei Shaojin of the Earl’s estate.
Pei Shaowen and his kinsman’s younger son by a concubine had both taken the Book of History as their primary Classic, yet one had been placed above the other, resulting in Pei Shaowen’s rank of sixth. Those who did not know the history between the two households merely praised them for producing two talented men from the same clan, extolling the depth of the Jingchuan Earl’s estate’s heritage. Those who knew of the old grievances and resentments between the two families pursed their lips and quietly chuckled.
The people of the Pei Minister’s estate, all of them, lost what little joy might have been on their faces. Their expressions were deeply complex.
Reading further down the list: Xu Yancheng, eldest grandson of the Xu household, had placed second; Yang Xiangquan, eldest grandson of the Yang household, had placed third… A household of hereditary nobility, a family that had risen from humble origins, a scholarly household of refined tradition — three families, each taking one corner, securing the top three. This particular ranking was worthy of some contemplation.
The scholars gathered beneath the list discussed it among themselves. One said admiringly: “The capital holds ten thousand scrolls, and the Yang household’s scholarly heritage accounts for eight thousand — yet this Second Young Master of the Earl’s estate was able to surpass this venerable scholarly family and take the top position. He is truly formidable.”
“If I recall correctly, was it not also this Earl’s estate’s Pei Family who took the top position three years ago at the previous Autumn Examinations?”
“Indeed — last time it was the elder brother, Pei Shaohuai; this time it is the younger brother, Pei Shaojin, both of the same generation.”
Someone looked at Pei Shaojin’s date of birth and exclaimed that he had not yet reached eighteen, then sighed with emotion: “An eighteen-year-old talent takes the top position; old men with white hair lament in vain. The joys and sorrows of this world truly do not intersect…”
“This younger brother is eighteen, but that elder brother was not yet fifteen three years ago when he also took the top position. From the looks of it, their family makes a specialty of producing top provincial graduates… And actually, thinking of it this way — doesn’t that make it a little easier to accept? Either way there’s no competing with them, so one might as well attribute it to the Pei Family simply being too exceptional.” A scholar nearby poured another cold bucket of water on the conversation, then consoled himself.
“With two brothers monopolizing the top position like this — could they not leave a little room for the rest of us?”
“They have left room,” someone said with a sideways glance. “Are second place and third place not right there on the list? Getting to second or third is itself an achievement. You should be grateful they didn’t sit for the examinations in the same year — otherwise there’d be no second place to compete for either.”
“Hold on.” A scholar suddenly asked with a look of dawning realization. “Does their family have any other brothers? What if there’s a Shaole or Shaojiang or some such afterward — wouldn’t that be something else entirely?”
The discussion went on without end.
Beneath the list, a few small blossoms drifted onto the lapels of clothing. Xu Yancheng overheard the conversation, clicked his tongue twice, found nothing particularly strange in it, and only made a self-deprecating remark: “I feel like I was just somewhat offended.”
As it happened, the Yang Family had also come to view the list, and Yang Xiangquan was standing nearby. He nodded in response: “I also feel somewhat offended.”
Understated self-deprecation, free of any envy — the two looked at each other and could not help but laugh. Then they cupped their hands in salute and said in unison: “Second (Third) place is not bad either.”
The top position on the North Metropolitan Region Autumn Examinations had again fallen to a Pei of the Earl’s estate — the Pei of the Earl’s estate, not the Pei of the Minister’s estate. With both brothers yet unwed, visiting cards for the Earl’s estate began once again to accumulate, as many families of the noble class expressed interest in sending their daughters to marry in and form a bond between two families.
At seventeen or eighteen years of age to already hold the degree of a provincial graduate — within the circles of the nobility, such a young talent was not easy to come by.
Lin Shi declined all of them with gracious words for the time being. First, before giving the Yang Family an answer, they owed the Yang Family that respect; second, Shaojin had already set his heart on the Lu Family’s granddaughter.
Several families held banquets to celebrate Shaojin and Yancheng’s passing the examinations. The gatherings were modest in size but harmonious and warm — there is no need to describe them in detail.
The heavy snow fell again and winter came once more. Pei Bingyuan’s three-year term was complete, and he returned to the capital from Taicang Prefecture to report. Situ Yang had also completed his three-year posting at Shanhaiguan and returned to the capital with his wife and children to report to the Emperor.
In the Situ General’s estate, a small round bundle of over two years old, with two small tufts of hair tied up on his head, lively and full of energy — he was Situ Yang’s son, Situ Qianting.
Situ Yang led the little bundle to his father’s study, let go of his hand, and said to his son: “Go on.”
The little bundle had inherited the Situ family’s bloodline — from a young age, he walked with a steady and upright gait. He came before Situ Wuyi and prostrated himself on the ground like a little horse, his childish voice calling out: “My respects to Grandfather.”
The old general’s heart melted entirely. His whole face broke into a warm smile. He quickly bent down, scooped his grandson up, and placed him on his knee, coaxing him: “Say it one more time.”
“Grandfather.”
An only grandchild in the household — the old grow especially fond of the generation below. The old general held his grandson and went inside to fetch many finely made little objects, stuffing the small pouch on the little bundle’s chest until it was full to bursting, and still felt it was not enough.
When Situ Yang had been young, his father had never shown him this expression, nor treated him this way.
Situ Wuyi hesitated briefly, then spoke in a tone of discussion: “The border regions are harsh and cold. For food, lodging, and upbringing, it cannot compare to life inside the capital. Once the new year has passed, why not let…”
“Qianting.” Situ Yang called the little bundle, gesturing with his hand.
The little bundle slid off the old general’s lap and came running to stand behind his father, peering out from behind him.
Only then did Situ Yang continue: “I am occupied day and night with drilling the troops and holding the mountain pass. It is Ruolan who sees to everything, managing the household on her own, raising three children by herself… Father might consider: how is it that Qianting knew to call out ‘Grandfather’ the moment he returned?” His tone was cold and distant.
Several years had passed, and Situ Yang was still the same free and unconventional man he had always been, with the added layer of steady, penetrating composure.
Situ Wuyi was momentarily taken aback. He then heard Situ Yang continue: “If Father still has those intentions, the next time I return to the capital to report, I can come back alone.”
Having said this, Situ Yang picked up the little bundle by the back of his collar, hoisted him up, then carried him on his forearm with practiced ease and returned to his own courtyard.
Now that Pei Bingyuan had returned to the capital, Qiao Yunsheng seized the moment to engage an official matchmaker to call on the Pei household. After receiving the Pei Family’s consent, he put on his Earl’s formal attire and entered the palace to request the Emperor to grant the marriage, and received several dozen trays of betrothal gifts bestowed by the Emperor himself.
One had the Emperor bestow betrothal gifts; the other had the Empress bestow fertile land as a dowry — it was truly a fine occasion brought about by the blessing of noble persons.
On the day of the formal gift-presentation, Qiao Yunsheng prepared the betrothal gifts and ceremonial objects and sent them to the Pei household — known among the common people as “opening the road.” There were no fewer than one hundred and eighty-eight lacquered gift boxes in all. The first eighty-eight were bestowed by the Emperor; the subsequent hundred were prepared by the Qiao household itself. Inside the boxes were solid gold bracelets, pearls the size of fists, jade ornaments and jewelry, silk and satin fabric, and ceremonial garments for the expected child — not a single box was filled with hollow show.
The inquiry of name, the inquiry of auspiciousness, the formal presentation of gifts, the request for a date — the grand ceremony of the wedding was set for the eighteenth day of the twelfth month, an auspicious day by the almanac.
On the day of the wedding, Pei Ruozhu was about to become another man’s wife. She served tea and bid farewell to her parents with a bow.
As she knelt and offered tea to her mother, Lin Shi gently pulled back the cuff of her sleeve, and at her wrist a slightly muted white jade bracelet came into view — not brilliantly lustrous, yet warm and smooth against the skin.
Pei Ruozhu immediately noticed the bracelet and instantly understood the significance it carried. She looked up, and her gaze met Lin Shi’s. Her eyes were filled with gratitude.
Lin Shi sat composedly, accepted the tea with a smile, and instructed: “In this marriage, sing in harmony with one another, and never neglect respect and devotion.”
Pei Ruozhu nodded, tears glistening in her eyes, and said: “The grace of Mother’s upbringing — I dare not ever forget.”
Lin Shi carefully removed the bracelet, which did not quite fit her wrist, and placed it on Pei Ruozhu’s wrist — a perfect fit.
The tears in Pei Ruozhu’s eyes spilled over, beyond her control — this unassuming jade bracelet had been worn by her birth mother day after day, for more than a decade.
She recalled what her birth mother had said to her the previous night as she combed and dressed her hair: “To see you marry into a proper household as a proper wife — your birth mother is very happy and very content…” Her tone was even and drawn out, and alongside the happiness there was a lingering trace of regret.
Pei Ruozhu turned her head slightly and saw her birth mother behind the door, dissolved into tears, her eyes red as she waved toward her. And on her face, the trace of regret was no longer there.
With a single jade bracelet, Lin Shi had acted on behalf of Concubine Shen — who had never once competed or fought for anything — and helped her put to rest a wish that had weighed upon her heart.
Shaojin carried his sister on his back and walked her step by step to the bridal sedan chair. A rush of bittersweet emotion welled within him, and only then did he come to understand what meaning his elder brother had held in the words “when feeling reaches its truest depth, even what one has not believed becomes something one believes.” If there truly were gods and spirits, if ceremonies and customs truly could bring a lifetime of peace and good fortune, then in this moment he ought to conduct himself with the fullest propriety and care.
To carry his elder sister on his back and deliver her to another’s household — the weight of feeling in that was beyond words.
The Emperor’s bestowed marriage meant the Nanping Earl’s estate was festively adorned, but there were not many people at the banquet. This was simply because Qiao Yunsheng had not sent out many invitations to begin with — only those he knew and was close to were invited.
And so, before the hour of the dog had passed its midpoint, he had seen off all his guests and returned to the bridal chamber.
The chamber door opened. The bridal candles’ flames swayed gently in the draft. Qiao Yunsheng had drunk with awareness of his limits, and only a faint flush of red showed on his face — there was no heavy scent of wine on him, and his bearing was composed and unhurried.
Pei Ruozhu sat quietly on the wedding bed, awaiting the unveiling of her veil.
Qiao Yunsheng instructed the nannies and maidservants to take away the dates, longans, silver coins, and such little objects scattered on the bed, and had the hot water prepared for washing brought in. Then he dismissed them all.
Qiao Yunsheng poured the wedding cups of wine, then picked up the gilded bridal rod, sat down on the bed beside her, and gently lifted her veil — and beheld the person he had long and deeply yearned to see.
The room was nearly frozen in quiet stillness. Both were fond of the other yet both felt a touch of shyness. After performing the ritual of drinking from the shared cups, they did not return to the bed, but instead sat down at the tea table.
“Zhu…” Qiao Yunsheng caught himself and corrected the slip, saying, “Is my wife hungry?”
“I ate a little while ago.”
Qiao Yunsheng had had some wine after all, and the wine lent him a measure of courage. His neck flushing red, he said: “My wife has always said I am too lean. I have been eating considerably more of late… Does my wife wish to check the homework and see whether your husband is still so lean?”
His eyes kept drifting toward the folding screen, from behind which drifted wisps of warm mist, faint and hazy, filling the room with a thin veil of vapor.
Qiao Yunsheng ventured one step forward, and Pei Ruozhu, no longer so shy, reached out and undid the knot of Qiao Yunsheng’s sash, teasing: “Does my husband wish me to serve him and help him change?”
“…” Qiao Yunsheng waved his hand quickly. “I wouldn’t dare.”