“With no idle worries to weigh upon the heart, every season becomes a fine time of year”—at last, the examinations were over.

Upon returning to the residence, Pei Shaohuai’s appetite was excellent, though he restrained himself from eating too much or too indiscriminately, taking instead light, easily digestible soups, broths, and congee.

He then fell into a deep sleep. He did not hear the dawn crowing of roosters; it was only as the hour approached midday, when his half-closed eyes vaguely registered the bright light already filling the window, that Pei Shaohuai finally rose and dressed.

Chang Fan had been keeping watch outside the door all along. Hearing signs of movement, he hurried to prepare hot water for washing and changing, and called for the kitchen to bring food.

Once Pei Shaohuai had finished his late-morning meal, Lin Shi came to look in on her son, and while there, had servants take away the clothing and items Pei Shaohuai had used during his time in the examination grounds, to be disposed of—an auspicious gesture: the Imperial Examinations had gone smoothly, and his name would appear on the list; the old things had served their purpose and were to be discarded.

“Wait a moment.”

Pei Shaohuai walked over and retrieved the neatly folded quilt before allowing the matrons to take the old clothes away. On the quilt were tufts of silk velvet, each one sewn on by hand, the stitches dense and tight enough to keep the velvet from falling off. To make a quilt eight feet square in this manner required considerable care and effort.

From the fifteenth day of the first month, the Lantern Festival, to early in the second month, there had been barely half a month in between.

A velvet quilt rushed to completion in half a month—once it had served its purpose, how could one simply discard it with a single careless word? Even if Yang Shiyue herself would understand, Pei Shaohuai could not bring himself to do it.

Lin Shi saw clearly what was in her son’s heart, and felt warmth and comfort. She knew that from a young age, her son had always placed exceptional value on things made for him by his family, and would not casually throw them away.

Pei Shaohuai instructed someone to take the quilt away to be properly washed and dried, then turned back and said to his mother: “One only sits the Imperial Examinations once, but affection can be kept for a long time.”

Lin Shi smiled and said: “As it should be.”

Several days later, Ying Jie’er returned to the Earl’s residence. By then she was eight months along, and Lin Shi went to support her, gently chiding: “You’re carrying a child and it’s inconvenient—what made you come all this way yourself? If there was something to say, you could have just sent a word through the servants.”

Ying Jie’er smiled and said playfully: “Staying home every day—even if I were willing, the one in my belly would not be… I came to see my little brother and get a breath of fresh air.” Two steady middle-aged matrons were attending her on either side.

This showed plainly that she was being treated very well at Jingchang Marquis’s household—they had not confined or restricted her just because she was with child. When she wanted to come home for a visit, they arranged everything properly and sent her back.

After she had inquired after her brother’s health and wellbeing, Ying Jie’er produced a small box and pushed it across to Shaohuai, saying: “The Old Ancestor especially asked me to bring this—an early congratulation, wishing little brother a place of honor on the golden list.”

He opened it to find a round jade pendant, carved with lychees, walnuts, and longans, representing “first place in all three examinations.”

It was a blessing from the Marchioness.

Pei Shaohuai accepted the small box and looked questioningly at his sister—for no apparent reason, why would the Marchioness send him a jade pendant?

Ying Jie’er’s eyes held a hint of delight as she explained: “After Brother-in-law finished the examinations and came home, he recited his essays from memory for Grandfather and the family’s tutor, and they felt that Brother-in-law had a very good chance of making the list.”

Since they were in the presence of their mother and brother, Ying Jie’er spoke plainly: “The Old Ancestor asked me to properly thank little brother.” To thank him for having encouraged Chen Xingchen that day, urging him to set his mind at ease and prepare for the Imperial Examinations.

The questions of this year had been perfectly suited to Chen Xingchen’s strengths, allowing him to make the most of his advantages—his deep passion for mathematics and the fact that in his youth he had traveled widely with his father and seen the great rivers and mountains of the land. Had he missed this year, the next sitting might not have been so favorable.

“You foolish girl,” Lin Shi said. “You are family by marriage—it is only natural for a brother-in-law and a brother to help one another. What is there to thank? You should have declined on Shaohuai’s behalf.”

Ying Jie’er replied: “I did decline, but the Old Ancestor said this is a blessing, and that little brother, as the Provincial Examination top graduate, has the best hope of achieving consecutive first places and earning an illustrious name—so wearing this jade pendant is entirely fitting.”

Phrased that way, it would no longer have been appropriate to refuse.

Pei Shaohuai asked: “How is Brother-in-law faring these days?”

“He caught a chill when he came out—his forehead was burning and he was quite dazed and disoriented. After several doses of medicine, he’s much improved,” Ying Jie’er replied. “But he hasn’t fully recovered yet, so he wasn’t able to come along today.”

Sitting through examinations for nine days in cold and rain was a trial for both body and spirit alike.

According to what the household stewards in charge of purchasing had reported, the medical halls in the city were nearly full—mostly candidates who had just come through the examinations. In the medicine shops, tonifying herbs such as astragalus, white atractylodes, and codonopsis were in short supply, with prices rising by thirty percent.

After Pei Shaohuai left the room, mother and daughter spoke of more personal matters. Lin Shi placed her hand on Ying Jie’er’s belly and asked: “Has the little one started getting restless in there?”

Ying Jie’er nodded and said tenderly: “Every day at the crack of dawn, right on schedule—whenever I want to sleep a little longer, the little one kicks me, urging me to hurry up and have breakfast…”

……

Now that the Imperial Examinations were over, the various guild halls, inns, and teahouses throughout the city came alive with activity.

In the guild halls of the various prefectures and counties, fellow provincials gathered together and invited local officials from the capital, renowned figures, and distinguished families to attend—poetry societies and literary gatherings sprang up one after another. Candidates who had traveled great distances from across the provinces to the capital had not come solely for the Imperial Examinations; after all, the examinations passed only one in ten, and luck played a part as well. They had also come to make connections with celebrated scholars and men of letters.

Invitation cards flew across the capital in all directions.

If one could catch the eye of some high official or prominent household and secure a respectable substantive post at a capital bureau, that too would be a very fine outcome.

And so, within just a few days, the capital produced several published poetry anthologies.

The Chongwen Literary Society and the Ancient Well Literary Society had gotten into a quarrel at the Shili Inn. The two societies had agreed to compete against each other in two days’ time at the Shili Inn—one being a literary society from the Southern Metropolitan Region, the other from the Northern Metropolitan Region. This competition carried deeper significance and was the talk of the town.

The following day, Pei Shaohuai received an invitation from the Ancient Well Literary Society, asking him to represent them in the contest. Pei Shaohuai wrote a reply stating he was “indisposed,” and declined.

Years earlier, the court had built the Temple of China’s Imperial Rulers—“the pavilion of five phoenixes where jade trees meet glowing clouds; since ancient times, the city of Yimen has been the realm of sovereigns”—and the Emperor had repeatedly conducted grand ceremonies of worship at Kaifeng, all with the purpose of stirring the patriotic sentiment of all people under Heaven to unite the realm. Scholars were the vanguard of the people and the reserve of officialdom. For them to make distinctions between north and south, or comparisons of superiority and inferiority at such a time was clearly inappropriate. Shaohuai thought to himself: perhaps in a few more years, the Imperial Examinations would divide their quotas into northern, southern, and central rolls.

As in years past, the capital was swept up in the fashion of placing bets on who would top the Imperial Examinations. The top graduates of the Provincial Examinations from the Northern and Southern Metropolitan Regions and various administrative regions, along with the talented figures from the various literary societies, became the most favored candidates for wagering. Although Pei Shaohuai was the top graduate from the Northern Metropolitan Region, he had spent these past few years studying in the south, and rarely participated in literary gatherings or had his writings published. Aside from those who knew him well personally, few people had any clear sense of Pei Shaohuai’s actual talent—and so there was not much attention placed on him.

To the point that the reputation of Cui Zhengyi, the top graduate of the Southern Metropolitan Region’s Provincial Examination, firmly overshadowed Pei Shaohuai’s.

By contrast, the name “Northern Guest” was far more widely known.

Through The Chongwen Literary Collection, scholars from north and south alike had, for the most part, read Northern Guest’s essays, and it was widely conjectured that Northern Guest was a candidate preparing for the Imperial Examinations. Northern Guest excelled especially in writing policy essays, with distinctive insights on all manner of current affairs, and people believed that Northern Guest was certain to distinguish himself greatly in this Imperial Examination.

Unfortunately, they did not know Northern Guest’s true identity, and so were unable to place their bets on him.

……

……

The livelier the city became outside, the quieter it seemed within the examination grounds, where nothing could be heard but the sound of papers being turned and reviewed, and examiners conferring with one another in discussion.

As the highest-level examination before the Palace Examination, the panel of examiners was itself uncommonly distinguished.

Setting aside Grand Secretary Shen as chief examiner, even the officials managing the so-called “miscellaneous matters” and “minor affairs”—both inside the inner curtain and outside it—were all men of standing: the head of the patrol officers was a third- or fourth-rank military officer; the transcription officials and cross-reading officials were county magistrates temporarily transferred from various prefectures of the Northern Metropolitan Region; and the paper-receiving official was a vice prefect.

The eighteen assistant examiners were capital officials, more than half of them being editors from the Hanlin Academy, every one a holder of the presented scholar degree, and among them were no shortage of former top graduates and third-place graduates of their respective examinations.

The Ministry of Rites selected examiners by the standard of “those who have been upright and cautious in their conduct of office.”

To put it in terms of later-era positions: several mayors who wrote reasonably well and had clean records in office were pulled in to copy out examination papers and cross-read them; the vice-mayor rank being too low to be entrusted with major affairs, they were only responsible for distributing and collecting papers.

Each paper was copied out in vermilion brush and then cross-read, and only after the transcription and cross-reading officials wrote “transcribed and cross-read without error by such-and-such official” could the papers be sent to the eighteen assistant examiners.

Each of the eighteen assistant examiners was a man of extensive classical learning, so it would be rare indeed to see any of them rise to their feet, paper in hand, crying out that they had encountered something astonishing beyond all expectation.

They would simply review each paper carefully and assess the merits and shortcomings of every script with close attention—since these were essays written by the examination candidates, they necessarily all had something to recommend them; the differences in quality lay in the subtle details and in the overall bearing of the essay.

The assistant examiners determined whether each paper would pass or be rejected; regardless of whether they recommended a paper or rejected it, the assistant examiners were required to state their reasons in writing, while the chief examiner made the final determination of rankings.

On the twenty-fourth day of the second month, all the recommended papers were delivered to Grand Secretary Shen, and the eighteen assistant examiners sat gathered around the table.

Among the eighteen papers submitted as top recommendations from each of the eighteen examining rooms, one attracted particular notice: its cover was filled with commentary written in indigo ink. Counting carefully, there were no fewer than nine annotations, meaning that half the assistant examiners had reviewed this paper and placed it at the very top. Inscribed upon it were the following:

Assistant Examiner, Editor Liu: First review: None but one who harbors love for the people and loyalty at heart could write thus—the words are earnest and incisive, precise and sincere… Recommended as a model.

Assistant Examiner, Chief Supervising Secretary Li: Second review: The heart for serving the sovereign is sincere, the heart for loving the people is genuine; wide in learning and broad in knowledge, the language elegant and proper… Recommended as a model.

“…”

Assistant Examiner, Principal Secretary Wang: Subsequent review: The classical essays show a mind devoted to scholarship; the policy essays direct their effort toward practical application… Ought to be selected as a model.

In previous years, papers covered with commentary from multiple assistant examiners had sometimes been seen, but those were typically papers on the borderline between acceptance and rejection, reviewed by several readers to ensure no worthy talent was overlooked. This year’s paper, however, attracted so many reviewers because it was so exceptionally well-written—during their leisure moments, the assistant examiners had passed it among themselves, resulting in nine people each leaving annotations in blue ink.

Grand Secretary Shen took the paper in hand and, before reading it, said: “Editor Liu, you provided the first review, and this paper is also the top recommendation from your examining room. Tell us first why there are so many annotations on the cover.”

“Yes, Chief Examiner.” Editor Liu rose to respond. “When this official first read this paper, I knew at once it should be recommended. Reading it several times over, each reading revealed new passages worthy of a circle mark… Fearing my own learning might be insufficient and that I might have missed some worthy passages, I asked my colleagues to help review it together, before I dared present it to Principal Secretary Wang.”

Circle marks indicated passages that were well-written or particularly clever.

These words aroused Grand Secretary Shen’s curiosity, and he turned to examine the paper. Even before finishing the first essay, he had already begun to feel that a certain bearing within the writing seemed somehow familiar. It was not necessarily that he knew the candidate personally—it might be that he was acquainted with the candidate’s teacher.

After reading it through, he found it was indeed an excellent essay by a promising talent, fully deserving its place as the top recommendation from among all eighteen examining rooms. Grand Secretary Shen did not hesitate; he immediately put brush to paper and wrote:

Chief Examiner, Grand Secretary Shen: Annotation: A talent of loyalty and righteousness. Accepted.

The twenty-eighth day was set for the announcement of results. On the twenty-sixth, it came time to fill in the list. During this process, the chief examiner determined the rankings, and the deputy chief examiner personally wrote down the reference numbers of the vermilion examination papers—this was called the “draft list.” Three copies were made, two of which were sent to the armed officials outside the curtain to be locked away as corroboration. Afterward, the assistant examiners used the draft list to unseal the original papers, cross-referencing the vermilion copies against the originals to confirm there had been no discrepancy and no sign of fraud, before the official list—bearing the candidates’ native places and full names—was finally filled in.

……

“All through the little tower, one listens to spring rain in the night; come morning in the deep lane, fresh apricot blossoms will be sold.” When the apricot blossoms opened, scholars rushed to buy a few sprigs and hang them above the doors of their guild halls and inns, praying for their names to appear on the Apricot List and to honor their years of study behind closed windows.

In the breeze, the branches swayed, and apricot blossom petals fell.

On the twenty-eighth day of the second month, at the fourth watch of the night, candlelight was lit in both the Hall of Good Fortune and the ancestral shrine of the Earl’s residence—the Old Madam was offering prayers to the divine, while the Old Master was presenting supplication before their ancestors.

Steward Zhang had gone early to wait outside the examination grounds together with Chang Fan. At the bottom of the announcement board, they encountered a page boy from the Yang household, and the three of them settled in together, crouching in the very front row.

Lin Shi had not slept the entire night. She had instructed servants to prepare two baskets of copper coins and had also wrapped many small silver pieces in red pouches, pressing her palms together in prayer that these coins would be smoothly dispensed in celebration.

The Apricot List was posted at the hour of the Dragon. The crowds surged and jostled.

Inside the Earl’s residence, all was quiet—everyone was straining their ears to catch any sound from outside, and at the faintest hint of noise immediately leapt to their feet.

Pei Shaohuai had thought himself nervous enough already, but to his surprise, every member of his family was even more eager and on edge than he was. He said: “It has only just reached the hour of the Dragon—the Apricot List has just been posted, and Chang Zhou still has to ride back on horseback. It will be a little while… Shall we have some tea first?”

Before his words had fully faded, the sound of rapid hoofbeats came. Steward Zhang dismounted and went directly to the main hall. In a state of excitement that was nonetheless dignified and composed, he called out without preamble: “The young master is the top graduate of the Imperial Examinations!”

Five words, and no lengthy announcement could have said more.