The Hall of Supreme Harmony stood on the central axis of the Forbidden City, its gates facing directly onto the Meridian Gate, the Gate of Uprightness, and the Gate of Heavenly Ascent. With its tall golden pillars and soaring eaves, it was the largest and tallest hall in the imperial city.

The Emperor’s enthronement, the imperial wedding, the investiture of the Empress, and many other great ceremonies of the royal house were all conducted here. The Hall of Supreme Harmony represented the highest ceremonial standard of the imperial family.

Today, the Grand Transmission Ceremony would be held within these walls.

Minister Xu, as Minister of Rites, had remained in the palace overnight without returning home, directing the officers and clerks of the Ministry of Rites and the Court of State Ceremonial through the night’s preparations to ensure that the grand ceremony would proceed without a single misstep.

In the fourth watch of the night, Pei Shaohuai donned his jinshi robes and made his way to the gates of the Forbidden City. One by one, the scholars arrived until nearly all had assembled. Even in the dim light, the flush of excitement could be seen on every face. Their robes were crisp and newly fitted, their hats perfectly set, and the two silk ribbons hanging from the back of each scholar’s official hat swayed lightly in the breeze.

Pei Shaohuai found his brother-in-law Chen Xingchen and his good friend Jiang Ziyun.

Chen Xingchen’s face showed more anxiety than excitement. He was hoping his ranking would place him near enough to the top to secure a position in the capital through the academy selection.

Pei Shaohuai understood his brother-in-law’s feelings well. His elder sister was already nine months along, and it seemed she might go into labor at any moment now. Today’s achievement, for Chen Xingchen, was not simply a matter of career — it was far more than that.

Jiang Ziyun, on the other hand, was considerably calmer. He first offered Pei Shaohuai his congratulations on placing in the top ten, wished him every success in claiming the Zhuangyuan title, and then laughed, saying: “To have come this far already exceeds what I could have hoped for at the start. Whatever the result, I’ve come out ahead.”

The time had nearly arrived. A Deputy Chief of the Court of State Ceremonial came to guide all the newly named jinshi into the palace, gathering them before the Meridian Gate.

They then stood waiting within the Hall of Supreme Harmony. The rites demanded strict decorum; though the ceremony had not yet begun, not a single newly named jinshi dared to speak out of turn or shift without purpose.

Pei Shaohuai raised his eyes. From the steps before the Hall of Supreme Harmony all the way to beyond the Meridian Gate, a sweep of red stretched unbroken, with the imperial ceremonial processions and court musicians arrayed in neat formation on both sides. As the sky lightened slightly, Pei Shaohuai recognized the figure of Minister Xu, standing at that moment beneath the eastern eaves outside the great hall.

The three transmission officials responsible for the ceremonial proclamations had already taken their places — positioned at equal intervals from the great hall’s vermillion steps down to the base of the staircase, each dressed in embroidered robes, their fine voices held in quiet readiness.

Civil and military officials, along with the noble households of the capital, filed into their respective lines wearing formal court robes.

At this moment, the mood of the newly named jinshi shifted from excitement to apprehension.

The auspicious hour had arrived. The reigning Emperor, robed in crimson ceremonial dress, entered the hall and ascended the imperial throne. Minister Xu stepped forward, received the Emperor’s approval, then moved to the exterior of the hall and proclaimed in a great voice: “Heaven opens the path of learning; men of talent and virtue enter the court — let this be duly and fittingly celebrated!”

The whips cracked. The music began.

The Grand Transmission Ceremony commenced.

Civil and military officials, along with the newly named jinshi, performed the ceremony of five bows and three prostrations.

Grand Secretary Shen, in his role as Chief Examination Reader, carried out the golden register and placed it upon the table at the top of the ceremonial steps, standing beside it as its guardian.

The music rose again.

Minister Xu proclaimed the imperial edict: “In the yi-you year, jia-chen month, bing-shen day, in the examination for jinshi, the Emperor posed questions to the outstanding and virtuous talents of the realm. The first rank — three individuals — are awarded the title jinshi and granted immediate appointment. The second rank — seventy-seven individuals — are awarded the title jinshi and granted regular appointment. The third rank — two hundred and twenty-three individuals — are awarded the title equivalent to jinshi and granted appointment by analogy…”

Minister Xu announced the names of the top three of the first rank, but the courtyard before the Hall of Supreme Harmony was so vast that not everyone could hear.

Then came the most stirring moment — the transmission proclamation.

Pei Shaohuai’s heart was full of hope as he stood waiting. After more than a decade of painstaking study, who could not hope to see his name proclaimed at the top of the golden register?

Then the transmission official standing at the highest point of the steps called out in a voice so powerful and so drawn out that each syllable seemed to ring separately: “First rank — first place — Pei Shaohuai!”

When Pei Shaohuai heard the syllable “Pei,” his heart leapt and pounded. Before he could gather his thoughts, a second transmission official called out: “First rank — first place — Pei Shaohuai!”

The third transmission official, standing at the base of the steps, turned toward the assembled hundreds in the courtyard and called out: “First rank — first place — Pei Shaohuai!”

This time, the sound was so near and so immense it seemed as if the transmission official had come directly to Pei Shaohuai’s ear. Each call confirmed the same undeniable fact — he was first.

It was only then that Pei Shaohuai came fully to himself and understood: he had truly won first place in the imperial examinations. The most overwhelming moment passed, and Pei Shaohuai quickly steadied his composure. Under the eyes of the assembled crowd, he walked out from the ranks with unhurried steps and stood waiting at the red-carpeted imperial avenue.

The second and third place finishers of the first rank were also proclaimed three times each: Ma Tingwen and Zhong Wangyue.

When Pei Shaohuai saw the two of them step out with missteps in their stride, he realized he had been rather too composed himself, and wondered whether he ought to have appeared a little more overjoyed — since winning this Zhuangyuan title had not, in truth, come without effort.

Pei Shaohuai stood in the center, one step ahead of the other two, with second and third place flanking him on either side. Under the guidance of the ranking officials, they made their way to the base of the steps before the Hall of Supreme Harmony.

The proclamation continued. The second rank was read only once, and the third rank was simply called as “so-and-so and two hundred and twenty-three others” — only the top name of the third rank received its own proclamation.

Standing before the steps of the Hall of Supreme Harmony during the ceremony, Pei Shaohuai looked down at the stone steps before him and saw, carved into the central slab, a great picture of a soaring dragon and a cresting sea turtle — the dragon ascending through the azure heavens, the turtle treading the waves below, climbing up toward the Hall of Supreme Harmony above.

The composure that had settled over Pei Shaohuai’s heart now gave way to a quiet stirring of pride — “Having once presented to the throne a memorial for a peaceful age, standing alone at the head, first in the realm” — those ancient words had not deceived anyone. As Zhuangyuan, he truly and literally stood alone atop the great carved image of the dragon and the sea turtle, at the very crown of the creature’s head.

No wonder the world always spoke of a jinshi of the first rank as “rising to the clouds on steady feet” and “standing alone at the summit.”

When the proclamation reached the twentieth name of the second rank, Pei Shaohuai heard Chen Xingchen’s name, and he was glad. But what made him even happier was hearing Jiang Ziyun’s name at the very last position of the second rank.

Of the seventy-seven of the second rank, not all would remain as capital officials — but the difference between a full jinshi appointment and an equivalent jinshi appointment was no small thing.

Pei Shaohuai led all the newly named jinshi in performing three kneeling prostrations with nine kowtows before the Emperor. The Grand Transmission Ceremony was drawing to a close.

“Rise.”

A transmission decree was then heard: “The new Zhuangyuan Pei Shaohuai is presented with one set of Zhuangyuan crown, sash, and court robes. All newly named jinshi are presented with five ingots of paper currency.”

Another transmission decree followed: “The top three of the first rank are granted the honor of a ceremonial procession through the imperial city, with the Ministry of Rites and the Shuntian Prefecture in attendance.” Only by the Emperor’s bestowal of this honor could an official parade through the imperial avenues.

All present bowed again in gratitude.

The rites concluded. The music fell silent.

The Emperor withdrew from court, the hundred officials dispersed — yet the glory of the top three of the first rank was far from over.

Minister Xu led his retinue as they carried the long scroll of the golden register out of the palace and posted it outside the left gate of the Gate of Heavenly Ascent for all under heaven to see, that the scholars and common people of the Da Qing realm might be inspired to pursue learning.

“Boom —” The heavy, muffled sound of doors opening rang out. Pei Shaohuai stood on the central axis of the Hall of Supreme Harmony, looking south. Three sets of great doors opened one after another, their arched gateways stacked in a single line, and through the last of them, one could see clear out beyond the palace walls, an unobstructed view to the world outside.

The Meridian Gate, the Gate of Uprightness, and the Gate of Heavenly Ascent were opened today for the top three finishers of the first rank.

“Zhuangyuan Pei, please lead the way,” said second-place finisher Ma Tingwen.

Pei Shaohuai nodded, lifted his robes slightly, and stepped forward. Second and third place followed close behind.

They walked through the central courtyard and across the stone bridge, and as the great archways swept past overhead, Pei Shaohuai felt a solemn and reverent feeling rise of its own accord from somewhere deep within him.

Emerging from the Gate of Heavenly Ascent, the Shuntian Prefectural Magistrate and Ministry of Rites officials had long been waiting. A colorful canopy had already been erected there, where the three of them would change their clothes and have flowers pinned to their hats, before beginning the ceremonial procession through the imperial avenues.

“Please, Zhuangyuan Pei, change into the imperially bestowed new garments.”

A Ministry of Rites official presented a set of Zhuangyuan robes: one inner garment of white silk, one outer round-collared court robe of crimson gauze, one broad silver sash, one ceremonial tablet of locust wood, one jade pendant, one pair of black court boots, and one two-ridged black gauze official’s hat.

The full ensemble, complete in every detail.

A servant entered the canopy to help Pei Shaohuai into the robes.

The Zhuangyuan alone was entitled to change into the crimson Zhuangyuan robes; the second and third place finishers had no such privilege, and kept their jinshi robes as they were.

The two of them had been in high spirits, but when they saw Pei Shaohuai step out wearing a full set of Zhuangyuan robes, they could not help but feel a pang of envy. A difference of one or two places in rank meant a considerable difference in treatment.

The Ministry of Rites official then presented the ceremonial flowers for pinning. Even these differed in style: all were made from cut silk, but the stem and leaves of Pei Shaohuai’s flower were gilded in gold.

The golden flower was pinned to the left side of the gauze hat, its color setting off the black gauze and red robes without the slightest awkwardness.

“The Emperor welcomes the new jinshi in joy; in the world below, may good officials come.”

On the day of the Grand Transmission Ceremony, the people of the city had been up early, waiting for the golden register and the Zhuangyuan’s procession through the streets — a piece of lively entertainment and something to talk about.

The crowd below the golden register was impenetrable; everyone wanted to know about this year’s examination results, to have something worth saying at dinner. Many wealthy households had specially sent people to stand watch at the register, and if they spotted a newly named jinshi they liked the look of, and he happened to be agreeable as well, they might send an embroidered ball to claim him as a son-in-law.

When the street procession began, the crowds surged from the golden register toward the imperial avenue.

Ministry of Rites and Shuntian Prefectural officials led the way with gongs and drums, escorting the top three as they advanced slowly forward.

Atop a tall and spirited horse, Pei Shaohuai rode in front in his full crimson Zhuangyuan robes, drawing every eye. When the crowd caught sight of his handsome face, those bright and luminous eyes, and his upright bearing, they felt not that the Zhuangyuan robes had added to his distinction, but that he was the one who made the robes look extraordinary.

Today he wears the Zhuangyuan’s robes — but who in days to come will prove worthy of those same crimson garments?

“What a fine-looking Zhuangyuan!”

“Isn’t it usually the third place finisher who tends to be the most handsome? It seems this year is an exception.”

“The Zhuangyuan is so young — surely he hasn’t been betrothed yet?”

“Throw flowers! I want to see him blush.”

Along both sides of the imperial avenue, the windows of shops and upper-floor galleries were flung open one after another. It was impossible to say how many young ladies who had yet to marry were stealing glances at Pei Shaohuai, their cheeks flushed crimson.

And how many young married women quietly lamented having wed too soon.

On this day of the Zhuangyuan’s procession through the streets, it was precisely meant for everyone to set aside propriety and indulge in a little wistful longing.

Scholars longed for the day they might ride down these same streets. Young women longed to find a talented and worthy husband. Commoners hoped to share in the new Zhuangyuan’s auspicious fortune — not necessarily hoping for a great leap to glory, perhaps only hoping that life would get a little better with each passing day.

Pei Shaohuai sat high in the gilded saddle astride a pale horse, one hand loose on the reins, his bearing distinguished and proud — a white horse beneath him, golden bridle gleaming, the spring breeze at his back.

He had no attention to spare for any of this, because the spectators were far too enthusiastic — they were pelting him from every direction.

It was spring, and the people had broken off branches of flowers, which they hurled toward Pei Shaohuai in a continuous stream. Petals burst and scattered underfoot, strewing the entire street in color, and through all the noise one could still catch drifts of fragrance.

The imperial avenue was awash in vivid hues of purple and red. In a single morning, the new Zhuangyuan had seen every flower in the flourishing capital.

It sounded rather romantic in the telling — except that nearly every person in the crowd seemed intent on throwing their flowers specifically at him, and more than one thoughtless soul, apparently not content with a single bloom, seemed prepared to uproot the entire tree. The gift of flowers had turned into an assault of branches.

Pei Shaohuai could only duck and dodge as best he could.

He was moved by the people’s warmth, and out of courtesy he smiled in their direction.

Still a smile like the gentle warmth of spring.

“The Zhuangyuan is smiling.”

“He’s happy, he’s delighted.”

The result was that the crowd’s enthusiasm for throwing flowers surged even higher.

He had barely made it through the open stretch of the avenue when the road narrowed into a section lined on both sides by galleries and upper-floor buildings — and lo, the window shutters creaked open one after another, and handkerchiefs and fragrant pouches rained down like a spring shower. Indeed: the Zhuangyuan, newly clad in fresh robes, riding through the imperial avenue, looked up to find every upper floor bright with crimson sleeves beckoning.

The people in those galleries had clearly come prepared, having claimed the best vantage points well in advance.

Some went even further — someone actually threw jewelry down at him.

Pei Shaohuai hurriedly raised his wide sleeve to fend things off. He did not dare touch those handkerchiefs and fragrant pouches — each one represented a thread of intended destiny.

Fortunately, from one of the upper galleries, an oil-paper umbrella was opened, and a pale hand released it. The umbrella floated slowly downward, and landed right in front of Pei Shaohuai. He caught it with one hand, raised it high, and deflected the flurry of spring offerings raining down around him.

A bamboo umbrella, raised lightly to shelter him from a shower of affections.