Hu Shanwei treated the examination hall like her own family’s library, writing furiously from dawn to dusk in an almost transcendent state. It wasn’t until a bronze gong sounded and the proctor announced the examination was over and papers would be collected and names sealed that she finally stopped writing.

Even when it was time to turn in her papers, Hu Shanwei hadn’t finished all the questions—one question was only half completed.

The second-to-last question on the third test paper examined the twelfth chapter of “Women’s Analects,” titled “Maintaining Chastity.”

“Since ancient times, virtuous women have been exemplified by nine martyrs and three chaste wives. Their names are recorded in history, passed down to today. When a woman is in her chamber, she must not leave her courtyard idly. When guests are at the door, she must not let her voice be heard. She must not engage in private conversations or listen to lewd sounds… If one deed fails, a hundred deeds come to nothing. When husband and wife join their hair in marriage, righteousness weighs more than gold. If misfortune strikes and one’s path is cut short midway, three years of heavy mourning, maintaining resolve with a steadfast heart…”

Hu Shanwei could understand all the other content, but the phrase “If one deed fails, a hundred deeds come to nothing” deeply puzzled her:

The “Zuo Commentary” says, “Knowing one’s mistakes and being able to correct them—nothing is better than this.” Confucius said, “Knowing shame leads to courage.” Folk wisdom also says, “A prodigal son’s return is worth more than gold.” All encourage people to reform.

Why can men make mistakes and reform to become good people, to become “courageous,” while women, once they have “one deed fail,” must suffer “a hundred deeds come to nothing”?

From her heart, Hu Shanwei disagreed with this statement from “Women’s Analects,” but when discussing this question, she absolutely could not write her true thoughts.

Having experienced family decline, her mother’s tragic death, her fiancé’s death in battle, her father’s alienation, her stepmother’s abuse, and secretly taking the registration document to sit for exams, she knew that facing reality meant first learning to endure and compromise.

However, writing words against her conscience, her brushstrokes gradually became labored, her thinking no longer flowed smoothly, and by the time papers were collected, she had only completed half the discussion.

The little palace maid collected the test papers, and the proctor immediately sealed over “Hu Shanwei’s” name, awaiting the examiners’ grading.

Hu Shanwei felt anxious and uneasy, consoling herself that although she hadn’t finished writing, these seventeen questions, especially the Four Books and Five Classics section, were written quite well. She had done her best in this examination, and even if she failed, she could only blame her learning being inferior to others.

The female official candidates filed out of the Wet Nurse Bureau. After a full day of examination, both psychologically and physically somewhat overwhelmed, several candidates had just emerged from the examination booths when they dropped their test baskets and burst into tears.

Some pale-faced women who had performed poorly walked away from the examination ground like zombies, stiffly upright and wooden.

Others who were confident in their stable performance and certain of success had relaxed expressions, their eyes nearly overflowing with confidence.

Compared to these women’s great joys and sorrows, Hu Shanwei’s weary expression was utterly ordinary among the crowd, not standing out at all.

Someone gently tapped her left shoulder.

Hu Shanwei turned around and found the face familiar. After thinking, she was a fellow examinee from the same examination hall, appearing seventeen or eighteen years old, petite in stature with a round face and almond-shaped eyes—also the first person to raise her hand asking to use the latrine.

The young woman curiously pointed at the hand with which she carried her test basket. “Your hand… what happened to it?”

Hu Shanwei’s hands were covered with chilblains that looked like strawberries. She found this inexplicable. “Oh, I have chilblains.”

“So this is what the legendary chilblains look like!” the young woman exclaimed in amazement.

The young woman’s loud exclamation drew the attention of surrounding examinees to Hu Shanwei’s chilblain-covered hands, their gazes showing both sympathy and disdain.

Hu Shanwei felt offended and no longer lingered, carrying her test basket to the front of the queue.

The young woman chased after her to apologize, and in her haste, her local accent showed: “Dui mu guk (I’m sorry), dou hai ngo seoi (it’s all my fault).”

Hu Shanwei didn’t understand. The young woman slapped her forehead and switched to official language: “I’m sorry, I’m from Guangzhou. My name is Chen Er’mei. Where we come from, it’s warm all year round, and I’ve never seen chilblains. I didn’t expect that even in a Jiangnan place like Nanjing, it could be cold enough to cause chilblains.”

Actually, she hadn’t been like this before—she’d only gotten chilblains for the first time last winter. Hu Shanwei looked at her pitiful hands. This major examination had drained all her energy, she was mentally exhausted, too lazy to explain. She nodded, indicating she accepted the apology, and turned to leave.

Chen Er’mei was about to explain further, but helplessly, being short-legged, she couldn’t catch up to Hu Shanwei.

Walking south, they exited through the West Peace Gate of the Imperial City. Outside the gate, a dark mass of family members and friends crowded together, waiting to meet the examinees.

“Miss! Over here!” The cart driver who had brought her to take the exam this morning waved the half-eaten crab shell pastry in his hand, protecting her as she squeezed out of the crowd. The driver had waited a long time, buying a pastry for dinner, afraid of missing picking her up.

Hu Shanwei had prepaid half a string of coins for the fare, agreeing to be picked up after the exam.

By the time the two squeezed through to the horse cart, the salty, fragrant crab shell-like crispy skin of the pastry had been rubbed off by the crowd. The cart driver finished it in two or three bites and cracked his whip to drive the cart.

At this time, the sky showed a pale moon with few stars. Outside West Flower Gate was Great Thoroughfare Street, a main artery running north-south through Nanjing city. The road was straight, and though the sky hadn’t completely darkened, shops along the street had already lit lanterns to attract customers.

The horse cart raced along, shaking the writing materials in the test basket with rattling sounds. Hu Shanwei was extremely tired, her eyes half-closed, half-asleep, but at a certain point, her body suddenly tilted to the right, indicating the cart was climbing uphill—they must be crossing some arched bridge.

Hu Shanwei’s heart skipped a beat, and she instinctively pulled open the cart window.

The cart was crossing Wenchang Bridge. Once over this bridge, they would reach the territory of Yingling Ward. Below Wenchang Bridge along the river was a row of residential houses, now showing myriad lights, including one house Hu Shanwei knew all too well.

That was her fiancé’s home. After her fiancé died in battle, his only relative, his widowed mother, died from excessive grief within two months. That house had been empty for two years—how was it lit up now?

“Stop the cart,” Hu Shanwei called out.

Hu Shanwei got off the cart and ran all the way to her fiancé’s residence. Just as she was about to investigate, a young couple came out leading a boy.

The house’s exterior walls had been freshly painted, and a wooden sign hung by the door reading “Li Residence.”

So the house had changed owners.

Things change, people pass, all ends in sorrow; before speaking, tears come first.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, falling into the dust and immediately disappearing.

When Hu Shanwei returned to the horse cart, her expression had returned to normal. “Let’s go.”

Returning home, it was just dinner time. The little maid had served the meal on the table. Father Hu Rong wasn’t home, and stepmother Chen Shi said coldly, “You played outside all day today, didn’t copy a single book, didn’t mop the floor either, and you still have the face to eat?”

Hu Shanwei went to the courtyard well to draw a bucket of water, carrying the wooden bucket with difficulty up to the second-floor library.

The library still had quite a few customers, most of them poor students from the Imperial Academy, wearing the characteristic blue scholar robes that marked students. The rare handwritten copies in the library were expensive, and they couldn’t afford them, so they basically just browsed for free.

Hu Shanwei picked up the mop and washed it in the wooden bucket, saying, “We’re closing. Everyone, please leave.”

Some customers reluctantly put down their books and went downstairs, but most remained motionless, continuing to hold their books and read for free under the lamplight.

These poor students were like spinning tops—they wouldn’t move unless whipped.

Hu Shanwei was used to this; she was about to start chasing people away.

Hu Shanwei pushed the mop back and forth, mopping the floor to drive people out. “Make way! Make way! Watch your feet! This customer, please move. That one there, please lift your noble feet.”

The customers, afraid of getting their robes splashed with dirty water from the mop, dodged and left one after another, creating a mass exodus.

Only one customer, no matter how Hu Shanwei wielded her mop attack, would either lift his left leg or raise his right foot, but just wouldn’t put down the book in his hands.

For dealing with thick-skinned customers who read for free, Hu Shanwei had rich experience. She changed her attack method from front-to-back mopping to circular mopping, wielding the mop with great vigor.

The customer couldn’t very well keep jumping while reading—that would be like performing monkey tricks. He countered by moving a ladder over, climbing up the ladder to the top of the bookshelf, staying away from the mop, and continuing to read.

I have never seen such shameless audacity!

Hu Shanwei was amazed and said, “The lighting is poor up there. Be careful not to ruin your eyesight.”

Meaning: please leave quickly.

The customer tested the thickness of the remaining pages with his finger and said, “Just a dozen or so pages left to finish.”

At this point, Hu Shanwei was both tired and hungry, the chilblains on the back of her hands burning with pain and itching. She couldn’t help but get angry, mopping right next to the base of the ladder. The floor had just been mopped once and was slippery; the ladder lost its footing and tilted to the left.

The customer fell backward. Hu Shanwei, leaning on her mop, couldn’t react in time and watched helplessly as the customer’s bottom landed on the mop head. She quickly let go and dodged. The customer crashed onto the dirty, damp mop, staining a large area of his blue scholar robe.

Fortunately, the customer had been holding the book against his chest the whole time and didn’t damage it.

Hu Shanwei pulled the book from the customer’s hands. “We’re closed. Please leave.”

The customer didn’t cry out in pain, just grunted when he landed, then supported his waist and slowly stood up. “I just need a dozen more pages to finish. Please be accommodating, miss.”

“Then come back tomorrow,” Hu Shanwei said.

“Merchants value profit above all, hmph.” The customer left angrily, flinging his sleeves.

From the library upstairs, Hu Shanwei saw the customer lead out an old horse. Without using the mounting stone by the door, he stepped on the stirrup and easily mounted, but the moment his bottom touched the saddle, he bounced up as if struck by lightning, then dismounted and led the horse away on foot.

It seemed he’d been injured by the mop earlier.

Hu Shanwei closed the windows, put the books back in their places, but discovered this was a military text, “Questions and Answers Between Li Weigong,” a dialogue between Emperor Taizong Li Shimin and General Li Jing.

What was an Imperial Academy student doing reading military texts? Must be idle entertainment.

Hu Shanwei felt even more contempt for this free-reading customer, blew out the lantern, and carried the bucket of dirty water downstairs.

She went to the courtyard to dump the dirty water, washed her hands to eat, but found that Chen Shi hadn’t waited for her and had already finished eating and gone to lie down.

Hu Shanwei looked at the table of completely cold leftover scraps. Though she was starving, she immediately lost her appetite.

The little maid was somewhat flustered. “Miss, I’ll heat it up for you.”

“No need, I’m going out to eat.” Hu Shanwei left the house. She still had the silver money her father had given her today—three taels of silver remaining.

Hu Shanwei went to a noodle restaurant and ordered a bowl of plain noodles, a sauced duck, a steamed bass, sashimi pufferfish, a steamer of crab roe buns, Longjing shrimp, and sweet pastry with snail shapes.

After mentally calculating the price, Shanwei also ordered a pot of Huadiao wine, exactly spending all three taels of silver.

Today was her birthday. She had always celebrated this way in the past—the whole family would go out to a restaurant for a good meal, feast heartily, and finally share a bowl of longevity noodles together. This year, her father had probably forgotten.

Hu Shanwei ate her longevity noodles and made a wish in her heart: pass the examination and enter the palace as a female official.

While she was thinking, the chilblains on both hands began to ache and itch again, as if countless little creatures inside were rebelling, trying to scratch through her skin and drill out from inside. Sometimes they could wake her up in the middle of the night with itching.

Hu Shanwei put down her chopsticks and took out the chilblain ointment to apply to her hands.

“Is that you?” Someone came over to strike up a conversation, just seeing her applying medicine to her hands. “Your hands—your stepmother is too cruel. When I was reading in your house, I often saw her bullying you. You just let her bully you like that? Why don’t you resist?”

This person was the last free-reading customer. Because his bottom was injured, he was holding a bowl of noodles and eating while standing, not daring to sit. From his higher vantage point, he happened to see Hu Shanwei.

Hu Shanwei said coldly, “It’s none of your business.” It seemed this person was a habitual free reader at bookshops.

Having hit a soft nail, the man slammed his noodle bowl on the table and said sarcastically, “If you showed half the authority you have when chasing customers away at closing time, she wouldn’t dare abuse you like this.”

Hu Shanwei ignored him. The ointment took effect, bringing coolness to the back of her hands. She picked up her chopsticks and continued eating noodles with her head down.

The man had no choice but to walk away with his noodle bowl, saying as he left, “Meeting someone like you, I truly ‘pity your misfortune and resent your lack of struggle.’ I can’t be bothered to care about you.”

Hu Shanwei looked up at his retreating figure. The lower half of his blue scholar robe was covered with dirty water from the mop, in a sorry state. She thought: Who asked you to care? Mind your own business.

After finishing her birthday noodles, Hu Shanwei called over a waiter to settle the bill and gave him three taels of silver. But the waiter said, “The student who was eating standing up earlier already paid.”

Someone who could pay three taels of silver for a stranger’s meal but had the nerve to read books for free at bookshops?

This person wasn’t poor; he was just foolish. Hu Shanwei thought: How did such a person get into the Imperial Academy?