Grand Secretary Zou had once said to Shaohuai that the level of his essays was sufficient for him to contend for the top place in the Imperial Examinations—but that luck would also play a part, depending on whether the chief examiner took a liking to his work.

And so when Pei Shaohuai heard that he had placed first in the Imperial Examinations, he stood momentarily dazed, his mind going blank with a loud hum—and in the very next instant, a flood of memories came rushing over him, every stroke of the brush from all those years past now standing as a foundation for this day’s result.

He had, without question, been hoping deeply for this outcome.

“Congratulations to elder brother on claiming first place in the Imperial Examinations and topping the Apricot List!”

It was not until Shaojin came over to offer his hearty congratulations that Pei Shaohuai slowly came back to his senses. Looking around the main hall, he saw his grandmother, his mother, and Concubine Shen weeping tears of joy; the Old Master had risen from his armchair and was calling for servants to prepare the three sacrificial offerings, ready to go to the ancestral shrine that very moment to report the news to their forebears.

The matrons, maids, and attendants inside and outside the residence were all brimming with high spirits.

This past year, good fortune had followed good fortune for the Earl’s residence, and Pei Shaohuai’s claiming the top place in the Imperial Examinations held extraordinary significance for the household.

……

Half an hour later, the streets outside rang with the thunderous clamor of gongs and drums. Teams of official messengers rode in on tall horses, holding aloft the banners of the examination grounds, and set off for the various residences and guild halls to deliver the glad tidings—a procession of music and fanfare that ushered in the most festive moment of announcement day in the capital.

On the same street, guild halls competed to see who had received more tidings of success and who had placed higher on the list. Many candidates inside the guild halls had not gone to look at the announcement boards themselves, and were eagerly waiting to hear their native place and name called out from the mouths of the messengers.

Townspeople chased after the messengers, both to enjoy the spectacle and gather some conversation material for their leisure hours, and to press close to the newly placed scholars and beg for a few lucky coins, hoping to share in the auspicious occasion.

Elsewhere, Chief Examiner Grand Secretary Shen, accompanied by the draft list, the official list, and the original papers of the top ten candidates, went in the company of the patrol generals and supervisory officials into the Imperial City to report to the Emperor.

The Imperial Examination’s Apricot List reached from the Emperor above to the common people below—it was on everyone’s lips.

At the Suzhou Guild Hall—as befitting a great prefecture steeped in literary tradition—this year’s harvest was, as usual, plentiful. By the time the tidings messengers had read through from three hundred and ninth place down to one hundred and fiftieth place, the Suzhou Guild Hall had already claimed eight candidates, only one fewer than the Yingtian Prefecture.

Cui Zhengyi—foremost of the Five Talents of Chongwen and top graduate of the Southern Metropolitan Region’s Provincial Examination—sat with eager anticipation barely concealed beneath a show of composed tranquility, silently telling himself “there’s still time, still time…” The later the messenger came, the higher his ranking would be.

Another messenger arrived, and abruptly called out his name—leaving him speechless. He had only placed one hundred and thirty-eighth? The congratulations flowing in from those around him went unheard.

He had been the most heavily wagered candidate for top place. His reputation in the Southern Metropolitan Region had been considerable.

It was not until the messenger announced that his junior fellow student Tian Yonglu had placed eighty-second that Cui Zhengyi suddenly understood: no matter how heavily you were wagered upon, how widely your name was known, or how warmly people flattered you, none of it could match genuine scholarship, and none of it could sway the judgment of the examiners.

At least he had made the list—he had not failed outright.

……

Before noon, a messenger finally arrived before the gates of the Earl’s residence and cried aloud: “Glad tidings! Congratulations to the young master of this honored house, Pei Shaohuai, who has passed the Yiyou Year Imperial Examinations in first place—”

The Pei family had already learned the result, but when they truly heard the official announcement of good tidings, the sense of ceremonial joy welled up naturally of its own accord.

A scholar’s learning has no fixed price through ten thousand miles of toil; only now, at last, has the golden flower slip received his name.

Pei Shaohuai received the golden flower certificate from the hands of the tiding messenger. The yellow flowered paper was thick and substantial, about five inches long and half as wide, dusted with gold powder that gleamed brilliantly in the sunlight.

With this, the Imperial Examinations were, in his heart, brought to a close.

Shortly afterward, word came from the Jingchang Marquis’s household that Chen Xingchen had placed thirty-fifth. The Pei family rejoiced once more. Chen Xingchen excelled in answering policy questions, which gave him an advantage in the Palace Examination, and combined with his solid Imperial Examination ranking, there was a very strong likelihood he would place in the second tier or above.

The chances of him remaining in the capital were very high.

Chang Fan copied the full rankings and brought them back. Pei Shaohuai first searched for his good friend Jiang Ziyun’s name, and eventually found it at two hundredth place. He thought to himself: Brother Ziyun must have been hampered, as before, by his weaker policy essays.

But regardless, making it onto the Apricot List at all was an extraordinary achievement. The Palace Examination had no eliminations—all candidates were granted a degree—so having made the Apricot List and earned the right to sit the Palace Examination meant, at the very least, the rank of an associate presented scholar, with an appointment as county magistrate as the starting point.

How many candidates failed the Imperial Examinations and ultimately could only enter official service bearing the rank of a provincial graduate, their career prospects limited from the outset.

That night—“amid fireworks blossoming into a realm of endless spring, sun and moon shift unseen beneath a sky without night”—clusters of silver flowers bloomed and burst in the night sky, bursts of sound and cascades of sparks raining down like a shower before vanishing in an instant.

Every guild hall was setting off fireworks in celebration. Those who had made the list rejoiced; those who had not either sought comfort in each other’s company over wine, or seized the occasion to make new connections and look for other paths forward… In any case, there was no candidate who lay quietly in bed that night.

After the evening banquet at the Earl’s residence, a good many fireworks were set off as well. Pei Shaohuai raised his eyes and watched the light that flared and vanished in an instant.

“What is elder brother thinking about?” Shaojin came bounding in.

Pei Shaohuai drew his gaze back and replied: “I was just thinking—throughout history, so many poets who could dash off brilliant verses with a single flourish of the brush, why were so many of them given to lamenting that their talent went unrecognized, with so few who had smooth and successful careers in office?”

“Has elder brother thought of the answer?”

Pei Shaohuai shook his head and smiled. “The circumstances of a great scholar’s lifetime, laid out in full, could fill a thousand essays—intricate and complex, not something an outsider can easily speculate about.” Then he added: “And yet, speaking only for myself, I have come to understand one thing.”

Shaojin listened quietly.

“Brilliance is like a flare of fireworks—lasting only an instant, yet always enough to make onlookers lift their heads in admiration.” Because it is dazzling and magnificent enough. Pei Shaohuai continued: “Ability is starlight.” Because it shines steadily and does not go out.

Whether it was this current first place in the Imperial Examinations, or the Palace Examination honor that was to follow—these were flashes of glory earned through the essays under his hand and the understanding within his chest, momentarily lifting Pei Shaohuai to the heights.

Through the dozen and more years that had passed, Pei Shaohuai had studied day and night, honing the written skill that was now on the verge of having fulfilled its purpose.

Grand Secretary Zou and his wife had been right: the Yangtze flowing into the sea—he had now arrived at the boundary where river meets ocean. What he now needed to learn was far, far greater than the writing of essays.

……

The following day, Pei Shaohuai went to the Xu residence to pay his respects to Master Duan, bringing the golden flower certificate along with him.

The master carefully washed his hands before spreading a piece of white silk over his knees, then received the Imperial Examination first-place golden flower certificate. He read the few lines of text written on the paper again and again, as if they held deeper significance than any ancient classical phrase.

The master murmured: “Good…very good…” This master, whose heart was full of talent and learning, looked upon this golden flower certificate with eyes that brimmed with tears.

He had injured his legs and could not leave his wheelchair, bound for life to the title of a cultivated talent—and yet his student was, step by step, completing the path that remained untraveled. This gratification was, little by little, filling in the void of his regret.

This was the first golden flower certificate ever placed in his hands.

Master Duan folded the certificate carefully and returned it to Pei Shaohuai, then instructed: “The Palace Examination that follows plays to your greatest strength. Simply answer as you normally would, and a place on the golden list can be expected.”

The Palace Examination had no fixed date—it might be held in the third month, or it might be in the fourth. All candidates who had passed the Imperial Examination remained in the capital awaiting arrangements from the Ministry of Rites.

The exact date depended on the Emperor’s schedule.

As Pei Shaohuai observed the master’s expression, he noticed that the master now rarely adopted a stern or serious manner with any of them—in its place was gentleness, and his words were largely words of praise.

At the prefectural examination, the master had advised him to seek common ground while setting aside differences, and not to let his views clash with the chief examiner’s.

At the academy examination, the master had advised him that the language of his essays should be upright and refined, and that in short questions, the opening argument should be refined rather than exhaustive.

At the provincial examination, the master had advised him to write with a sense of bearing—to write with intention but let the composition form without forcing it.

But by the time of the Imperial Examination and the Palace Examination, the master no longer instructed him on how to write his essays; he only encouraged him to answer as he normally would.

And in that moment, Pei Shaohuai’s eyes grew red—the master had poured out everything in his power to pass on his knowledge to them, and then, at just the right moment, had loosened his hold and let his students go forward to higher ground. The master placed great importance on this bond between teacher and student, and yet he also understood that it was only a passage of companionship.

A passage of companionship between teacher and student—one that brought forth a student who surpassed his teacher.

Pei Shaohuai said: “Your student has arranged a betrothal. The six rites of marriage are forthcoming.”

The master was delighted and smiled: “First comes the grand achievement of passing the examinations, then the lesser joy of establishing a home—both are happy events.”

“I ask the master to preside over the student’s wedding.”

Master Duan was somewhat surprised; he opened his mouth to agree but hesitated and stopped himself.

Pei Shaohuai said urgently: “Otherwise your student will carry this regret for the rest of his life.” The joining of two families, the three matchmakers and six rites, from the formal proposal to the inquiry of the name, all the way to the wedding day—the presiding person was expected to lead Pei Shaohuai through every ceremony.

Much as one would lead one’s own son through the great events of his life.

Rather than seeking out some elder from the clan, why not have the master preside over his wedding?

After a moment of silence, the master finally gave a nod.

The moment Shaohuai had left, Master Duan had old Adu locate the classical texts on marriage rites, and set about composing a marriage letter and a congratulatory verse. For Shaohuai’s wedding, the commonplace words and phrases that everyone else had worn threadbare simply would not do.

There was no question—the master very much looked forward to this.

Old Adu, seeing the master in high spirits and looking years younger, said: “Young Master Huai truly understands you, sir.”

The master nodded and replied: “He is afraid I will be left with regrets.”

……

“One may already predict this year’s great triumph in the examinations—how one hopes, too, for the lesser joy of matrimony in the days ahead.”

Between the triumph of the examinations and the joy of a betrothal, there is always a relationship that defies easy untangling—alliances between families forged on account of official rank were especially common among the great and powerful households.

In the past, when the Pei brothers had both won top place in the Provincial Examinations, it had not been quite enough to catch the eye of the highest families—after all, there was a considerable gap between the provincial and imperial examinations. But now, with Pei Shaohuai having placed first in the Imperial Examinations, he had instantly become an ideal candidate for a son-in-law in the eyes of many.

A first-place Imperial Examination graduate was not guaranteed to place within the top three in the Palace Examination, but he was certain to rank within the top seven of the second tier—that was a guaranteed appointment as a capital official, with no uncertainty whatsoever.

Quite a few families came to make inquiries, none of them of low standing, and all were tactfully declined by Lin Shi.

Lin Shi began to keep herself busy. The matter of Shaohuai’s betrothal needed to be moved forward on the agenda.

That day, there was a tea gathering at the Duke of Yong’s residence, and a number of daughters from prominent households attended—Yang Shiyue was among them.

Since it was a gathering of unmarried young ladies who had not yet left their family homes, it was inevitable that conversation would turn to the topic of marriage. At this time when the Apricot List had just been announced, the talented young men from the capital who had made the list became the subject of much discussion.

Some young ladies had caught wind of something and tried, from time to time, to sound Yang Shiyue out, saying: “The elder young master of the Earl’s residence, Pei, is from a noble military family and has now placed first in the Imperial Examinations. A presented scholar with such a bright future ahead of him—and I hear he is a remarkably fine-looking and refined young man as well… I wonder which family will be fortunate enough to make a match with him.”

Unexpectedly, Yang Shiyue was simply occupied with drinking her tea and chatting idly with the person beside her, without so much as glancing over.

Instead, it was several of the other young ladies who crowded in and started asking questions.

Yang Shiyue’s expression remained placid and indifferent, as if she had not heard a word.

One young lady, more forthright than the others, came directly to Yang Shiyue’s side, took her hand, and whispered to her: “Shiyue younger sister, I hear you have been promised in a fine match—the other party holds a scholarly degree?”

Yang Shiyue was caught off guard, and replied: “And where has this rumor come from? Let me hear it too.”

The other young lady no longer dared speak carelessly—she feared her own reputation was already good enough as it was, and could only embarrass herself and brush it off awkwardly.

The original expectation had been that with an opportunity like this to be the center of attention, Yang Shiyue would surely reveal a thing or two, to make others envious or to assert her claim.

But she was so composed, holding everything so steadily inside.

After the tea gathering, on the carriage home, her maid could not help but ask her mistress: “Young miss, did Madam not say the red engagement cards are to be exchanged very soon? Why must you still keep it secret?”

“The official rank he earned came through clean and upright effort—it is not something for me to use as a means of showing off.”

Though it was an arranged match, there was quite a difference, in the eyes of outsiders, between a betrothal agreed upon before the examinations and one agreed upon after.