The rain drizzled steadily, and Shengjing’s night was dark and heavy, carrying the crisp chill of autumn.

When Qi Chuan returned home, it was already deep into the night.

The roof leaked rain, and water trickled down along the base of the wall, pooling into a small puddle on the floor. Carelessly stepping into it, his thin-soled boots were instantly soaked through.

He lifted his damp leg and pushed the door open to enter.

Inside the room, a lamp glowed on the table. A young woman in a satin shirt sat on the outer daybed drinking wine, carelessly scattering salted shrimp shells all over the floor, filling the room with the smell of alcohol.

This was Qi Chuan’s wife, Madam Ma.

She was already somewhat drunk, glancing sideways at Qi Chuan with some disgust as she watched the water stains from his clothes drip onto the floor, muttering under her breath: “Filthy!”

Qi Chuan ignored her, only glancing inside to ask: “Is Jiu’er asleep?”

Jiu’er was Qi Chuan’s son. Madam Ma grunted in response.

He nodded slightly, took off his soaked outer garments, and tossed them into the wooden basin by the door where laundry was washed.

Madam Ma held her wine pot, drunkenly staring at his movements for a long while, then suddenly scooted her bottom forward a few steps to the edge of the daybed and asked: “Has there been any progress with our son’s academy?”

Qi Chuan paused and shook his head.

Young Qi Jiu’er had reached the age to enter school and should choose an academy to attend. However, among Shengjing’s government schools, the good ones wouldn’t accept him, while the poor ones he looked down upon. Qi Chuan had been frantically worried about this matter for the past few days, and after two or three months, Qi Jiu’er’s schooling remained unresolved.

Hearing this, Madam Ma’s nostrils flared, her mouth twisted to one side, and she spat: “Useless!”

The veins at Qi Chuan’s temples throbbed faintly as he said in a low voice: “Keep your voice down, be careful not to wake Jiu’er!”

But Madam Ma became even more enraged, rambling and cursing: “Worthless thing! I told you long ago to flatter and curry favor with your superiors. Those who entered the Court of Judicial Review with you are all doing better than you now, yet you’re still just a clerk. Not to mention your meager salary, but you spend money every day. Look at yourself, soaked like a homeless dog. You only look presentable on the surface. I was blind when I married you back then, thinking I’d be an official’s wife, but instead I came here to suffer hardship. You’re a dog who’s brought nothing but harm!”

Qi Chuan watched her opening and closing mouth, which in the dim lamplight looked like a huge, greedy fish, swallowing the scattered shrimp shells along with the gloomy black night.

Madam Ma was not a wife he had chosen for himself.

He had followed Fan Zhenglian for many years, from Yuan’an County back to Shengjing City. He had helped Fan Zhenglian judge many beautiful cases and was Fan Zhenglian’s most useful pen. Fan Zhenglian couldn’t do without him and arranged everything for him, including arranging a marriage.

Madam Ma was the niece of a nanny who served Old Madam Fan, and her whole family worked for the Fan household. Old Madam Fan arranged for her attendant’s niece to marry him—it was an honor and favor, trust and affection, but also naked surveillance.

It was meant to bind him permanently and completely to the Fan family, constantly reminding him that he was not a distinguished scholar wielding his brush in the examination halls, nor the wise and resourceful county lieutenant of Yuan’an County, but merely a clerk with an empty title in the Court of Judicial Review, just another ordinary servant of the Fan family.

Madam Ma had a fiery temperament and loved luxury. After entering his household, she did nothing but drink and curse daily, also resenting him for not knowing how to fawn over the Fan family, which led to his current hopeless career prospects. Like now, when he returned home drenched in rain, she showed not a trace of concern or inquiry, only knew how to curse and berate him.

“Truly from poor stock, thinking you’re something special after reading a few books? You’re nothing but lowly, destined to be an unlucky slave for life!”

He had heard these words many times before and had long grown accustomed to them, no longer stirring any waves in his heart. But perhaps because tonight’s rain was too cold and he was too tired, it suddenly reminded him of that humiliation at the Court of Judicial Review.

Slave, lowly person—this was how he appeared in these people’s eyes.

In the dark, broken corner of the room, fresh eggs and sweet potatoes were still piled up. Fearing they would be dampened by the leaking rain, they were covered with a layer of oilcloth, but it struck the man’s eyes like a sharp, cold arrow.

Those were native eggs he had specifically sought from the countryside. Since Jiu’er’s schooling matter had been delayed with no resolution, and Fan Zhenglian kept putting him off, he had brought these gifts to the manor to find Zhao Feiyan, thinking that women were generally more kindhearted and might lend a helping hand considering his years of service to the Fan family. After all, for the Fan family, this was merely a simple favor.

But those native products were later sent unopened to someone else.

The words of the maid beside the female physician echoed in his ears again.

“I heard it all then—they said these were rotten pickled goods sent by some poor wretch, all spoiled, taking up space in the manor, so they sent them to us!”

Poor wretch… spoiled…

Qi Chuan couldn’t help but slowly clench his fists.

He was like a dog raised by the Fan family—no dignity, no future, nothing at all.

In the rainy night, Madam Ma was still cursing: “Why don’t you piss and look at yourself in the reflection, you short-lived slave, can’t count on you for anything, leaving my whole family to drink the northwest wind…”

“Shut up!” Qi Chuan kicked over the table, and all the shrimp shells scattered across the floor with a “crash.”

Madam Ma was stunned. Usually when she cursed at Qi Chuan, the man never talked back, like a mute gourd. She looked up at her normally taciturn husband, but saw his eyes were gloomy and dark, as if containing raging fire, like an evil ghost in the rainy night, fiercely staring at her.

She was suddenly afraid and didn’t continue cursing. It wasn’t until the man kicked aside the miscellaneous bucket in front of him, as if unable to bear this cramped dwelling, slammed the door, and rushed back into the rain curtain outside.

After a long while, Madam Ma came to her senses, spat toward the empty doorway, and spoke hatefully.

“Damned wretch, better he die out there!”

…

Several autumn rains washed away the last traces of Shengjing’s remaining summer heat.

After the White Dew, each night grew cooler than the last. Particular households would rise early to “collect clear dew.” Medical texts recorded: “Autumn dew from the tips of all grasses, collected before it evaporates, cures all diseases, stops excessive thirst, makes the body light without hunger, and the skin smooth and lustrous.”

Particular households had this leisure and refinement, but students were very busy. Tomorrow would be the first day of the eighth month—the autumn examinations were imminent, and students were at home preparing their examination writing materials. The fortune-teller He Xiazi at the temple entrance had unusually good business—there were always families wanting to divine auspicious omens for their sons taking the examinations.

Street vendors on West Street closed their stalls earlier than usual. At Wu Youcai’s fish shop on Fresh Fish Row, the white mourning banners and funeral hangings had not yet been completely removed, and at a glance, it looked cold and desolate.

Madam Wu had been buried seven days ago. He Xiazi had chosen an auspicious day and selected a feng shui treasure site for Madam Wu’s burial. Finally, he told Wu Youcai: “This is an auspicious site. Young master, rest assured. With your mother buried in this place, this site can produce a top scholar, and you will surely become an official in the future.”

Hearing this, Wu Youcai only smiled faintly.

His mother was already gone. Whether he became a top scholar or an official, his mother could no longer see it.

The autumn wind wailed mournfully. Wu Youcai cleared the weeds from the courtyard gate and went back inside to organize the paper and brushes he would need tomorrow.

In the past, before every autumn examination, his mother would carefully prepare all these things for him. Now that his mother was gone and he had to arrange and organize everything himself, remembering the past made him feel even more desolate.

Wu Youcai bent down and dragged the old examination basket out from under the bed.

This examination basket was bought by his mother for fifty wen from a successful candidate when he first entered school, saying it would bring him good luck. Who knew that more than ten years had passed, and even after his mother had died, he still hadn’t achieved his wish.

After dragging out the examination basket, he didn’t open the book box immediately, but sat down on the floor, his gaze sweeping over a palm-sized paper package in front of the small table in the corner.

That was the paper package Lu Tong had given him.

This paper package seemed to emit a faint white light in the dark room, capturing all his attention like an impish ghost of impermanence sitting at the table, grinning wickedly at him with malicious intent.

Wu Youcai was somewhat dazed.

Lu Tong’s words from that day echoed in his ears again.

“Wu Youcai, you first took the examinations at age eighteen, and it’s been twelve years now. Twelve years—have you never wondered why you’ve never passed even once?”

“If the examination fraud isn’t dealt with, then after you finish mourning, buy burial ground, and bury your mother, you’ll continue to be as unsuccessful as before for the rest of your life, mediocre among ordinary people. This is your fate.”

“If someone dies in the examination hall, if one or two people die, then it won’t be a small matter that just the Ministry of Rites can suppress. The Court of Judicial Review, the Imperial Prison Bureau, even the Military Commission will get involved. The more people involved, the harder it is to minimize the issue. When various interests get mixed up, originally simple matters become complex.”

“Those chief examiners are beasts in human clothing, disrupting the court, causing talented people to be oppressed by the untalented. If it were me…”

“Of course, I would kill him.”

Kill him…

Wu Youcai suddenly shivered.

He hastily came to his senses, as if awakening from that frightening dream, gripping the basket lid tightly with both hands.

To kill a chief examiner—how could it be so easy? Not to mention whether this could be accomplished, he was now alone in the world with all his relatives deceased, so he needn’t worry about implicating anyone. However, for a scholar who had learned from childhood to “think distantly of promoting ancestral virtue, think closely of covering parental influence; think above of repaying national grace, think below of building family fortune; think externally of relieving others’ urgent needs, think internally of restraining one’s own evil”—to kill innocent people for personal desires was like being tempted by demons.

That chief examiner had no grievance or enmity with him. Even if he was truly bought and bribed as Lu Tong claimed, the crime didn’t warrant death. How could he take action?

Moreover, having been a common citizen for so many years, he had long grown accustomed to swallowing his anger. Whatever injustices or oppressions he faced, he didn’t even have the thought to fight back.

If it were the eighteen-year-old Wu Youcai, perhaps he might still have had a trace of courage to contend with the corrupt world and powerful nobles. But the present Wu Youcai, worn down by worldly affairs, had long lost that spirit, like a piece of smoothed ink paper, lying flat between heaven and earth, allowing wind and rain to batter him.

“Fairness” was a luxury that poor people dared not dream of. Perhaps only after death, in the underworld seeking judgment from the King of Hell, could one obtain even a tiny bit.

He shook his head, as if trying to shake out all these chaotic thoughts from his mind, and lowered his head to forcefully open the examination basket’s lid.

Inside the examination basket were some old items. He needed to put in some new paper and ink to take with him to the examination cell tomorrow.

He reached in to take out a few old papers. After fumbling around several times, his fingertips suddenly touched something hard. Puzzled, he took it out to look—it was a bundle wrapped in layers of red floral cloth.

This was… Wu Youcai focused his thoughts.

The red floral cloth was leftover fabric scraps his mother usually used for mending clothes. This bundle was about what his mother had secretly placed in the examination basket. He picked up the bundle, his fingers tracing over the rough floral cloth, as if he could still feel his mother’s warmth.

After looking at it for a while, Wu Youcai tried to open the bundle. Upon opening it, he discovered it was wrapped very tightly in layer after layer. He had to unwrap five or six layers before completely opening it. Inside were scattered some fine dried grass, and within the grass, ten silver ingots were arranged neatly.

It was actually one hundred taels of silver.

Wu Youcai was stunned.

This was silver his mother had left for him!

Like a needle suddenly piercing his heart, dense pain instantly spread from his heart. Wu Youcai’s tears immediately poured out.

His mother had been frugal all her life, killing and selling fish, earning only about ten wen per fish. He didn’t know how long his mother had to save to accumulate these one hundred taels of silver, but this must be the savings she had painstakingly left for him through a thousand hardships. She hadn’t told Wu Youcai, perhaps fearing he would use the money to buy useless medicinal materials, or for other reasons.

The scholar sat withered on the ground, tears falling like a rushing spring, spattering all over the floor. He seemed to see his mother dragging her diseased and failing body, exchanging a whole box of copper coins for ten beautiful silver ingots, then cleaning each ingot and carefully wrapping them in cloth to hide in this examination basket. He could almost see his mother standing before him, smiling and comforting him as she used to: “When my son passes the examination and becomes an official, he’ll inevitably need to maintain relationships. How would it look to be stingy? Keep this silver, don’t let people look down on you!”

His mother’s voice and smile seemed right before him, yet he collapsed on the ground, weeping and wailing in grief. Within his sorrow, intense resentment and unwillingness burned from his heart.

He would never pass the examination, he would never become an official! Because the ladder upward was blocked by others, because he was just a poor fish-killer from Fresh Fish Row!

Wu Youcai suddenly raised his head, staring viciously at the oil paper package at the corner of the table. The oil paper package silently sneered at him in the dim light, stark against the scattered silver ingots on the ground.

As if bewitched, he slowly reached toward that oil paper package.

Why should it be this way?

The pine at the bottom of the ravine, flourishing seedlings on the mountain. With that inch-wide stem, shading these hundred-foot tall branches…

He didn’t want to be a pine at the bottom of the ravine for life, nor did he want to be subordinate to mountain seedlings forever.

Lu Tong’s heart-shaking words slowly surfaced in his mind again.

In the mourning hall where wind and rain were about to come, the scholar asked Lu Tong: “Why does Physician Lu want to help me?”

The woman looked at him silently without answering, her eyes seeming to hold dark mist, deep and unclear.

Wu Youcai knew in his heart that she wanted to use him, and her words of helping him certainly had other purposes. But at this moment, he was willing to be bewitched by her. He was grateful to her for finding him a desperate yet satisfying path in this resentful and bitter situation, so that he wouldn’t sink into this endless grief.

The scholar’s fingertips touched the paper package on the table.

The paper package was ice-cold, like a cold curse. In an instant, behind him seemed to ring the joyful laughter of impish ghosts, as if celebrating the final victory in this game.

So he clutched that paper package tightly in his palm and bent down in the empty room, crying silently.