Jiang Cang was indeed extremely unlucky. Out of hundreds, if not thousands of examinees, he ended up with one of only a dozen or so foul-smelling examination booths.
As Lord Jiang the Second had thought, for candidates assigned to these putrid booths, simply surviving the exam was an achievement, let alone taking it.
Jiang Cang was not one to settle for mediocrity. From a young age, he had set his sights on the imperial examinations and naturally possessed the willpower to pursue this goal. He managed to endure for over two days before finally succumbing to the stench and fainting.
Now, Jiang Cang lay on a stretcher being carried inside, having regained consciousness.
“Cang’er—” Madam Xiao stumbled forward to meet him, her head buzzing as she took in her son’s appearance.
The once vibrant young man who had entered the examination hall now had a sickly yellow pallor, his formerly plump cheeks sunken. He looked no different from a consumptive ghost on death’s door.
How could her son have ended up in such a state?
“Cang’er, how are you feeling?” she asked anxiously.
Jiang Cang struggled to open his eyes and look at his distraught mother. With a wan smile, he said weakly, “Son has disappointed you…”
Having expended great effort to utter those few words, Jiang Cang’s eyes rolled back, and he fainted once more.
“Cang’er, Cang’er—” Madam Xiao wailed heartbrokenly, feeling as if the sky had fallen.
At this moment, a group led by Old Madam Feng rushed over.
Lord Jiang the Second angrily said, “What use is crying? Hurry and fetch a physician!”
His eldest son had merely been unlucky; it wasn’t for lack of ability. Now that things had come to this, they could only wait for the next examination in three years. The most important thing now was to nurse him back to health, as physical well-being was the foundation for everything else.
Though he tried to comfort himself thus, seeing his eldest son’s pitiful state, Lord Jiang the Second felt a suffocating pressure in his chest.
To have the ability but no luck—this was truly the most infuriating situation.
Jiang Cang’s condition was primarily due to the harsh environment of the examination hall. After a physician was summoned and a few doses of medicine administered, his physical state gradually improved.
However, as his body recovered, his spirits plummeted.
Ten years of diligent study should have led to a brilliant showing in the autumn examination. Who could have foreseen that due to sheer bad luck, he couldn’t even complete the first round of testing? How could this not cause anguish and regret?
What pained Jiang Cang even more was that his answers to the Four Books questions had been exemplary. He could have not only passed but potentially placed in the top three.
There was a saying about the provincial examinations: “Of the three sessions, the first is most crucial; of the first session, the Four Books questions are paramount.”
The first session consisted of seven questions—three on the Four Books and four on the Five Classics. The three Four Books questions determined the outcome of the first session, so candidates typically tackled these first.
Jiang Cang had endured the stench to craft brilliant answers to the three Four Books questions. Alas, he couldn’t persevere until the last day, and all his efforts were in vain. In his distress, Jiang Cang couldn’t help but write out his answers again, reciting them obsessively over and over.
Upon seeing Jiang Cang’s answers, Lord Jiang the Second felt like vomiting blood himself.
As a genuine Jinshi degree holder who had studied at the Hanlin Academy, he certainly had the discernment to recognize how outstanding his son’s answers were.
The more he realized this, the more his heart bled.
What a pity, such a terrible pity.
Given that a person’s ability remains constant, exam performance can fluctuate greatly depending on luck. This time, the Four Books questions suited Jiang Cang’s strengths. Who knew what preferences the examiners might have in three years?
A guaranteed provincial graduate title had slipped through their fingers!
Lord Jiang the Second had received no shortage of “consolations” from his colleagues in recent days. Steeling himself, he decided to circulate Jiang Cang’s answers.
Soon, those following the examinations learned of a certain matter: The East Peace Marquis’s eldest young master possessed the talent to top the provincial examinations, but due to terrible luck, he had been assigned a foul-smelling booth and couldn’t complete the test.
As a result, Jiang Cang’s withdrawal from the examination became a matter of great regret among the people.
The blow to Madam Xiao was even greater than to Lord Jiang the Second and his son. For several days, she could barely eat and soon fell ill, unable to leave her bed.
As visitors came to inquire about her health one after another, Madam Xiao’s heart shattered further upon hearing about her son’s situation from their mouths.
When Lord Jiang the Second came to see her, Madam Xiao couldn’t help but sob, “Cang’er’s answers have been circulated. Now everyone pities him, saying he had the talent to top the examinations. How could Cang’er bear to hear such things…”
Listening to Madam Xiao’s sniffling, Lord Jiang the Second felt irritated. He even had the absurd thought: If it weren’t for this woman discussing the merits of examination booths with him that day, perhaps Cang’er wouldn’t have been so unlucky.
It was all because of this foolish woman’s crow’s mouth!
“Stop crying! What do you understand?” he snapped.
Madam Xiao’s sobs ceased, and she raised her wan face with an effort to look at Lord Jiang the Second.
Coming from an ordinary background, Madam Xiao always deferred to Lord Jiang the Second on important matters.
“In every autumn examination, countless candidates withdraw due to illness. Cang’er is talented, but the names of those who withdraw don’t appear on the honor roll. Who would know of his abilities? Should we go around explaining it ourselves? Now that his answers have been circulated, those with discerning eyes will regret his misfortune and remember his talent. When Cang’er takes the examination again in three years, he will certainly receive attention. This is extremely advantageous for him,” Lord Jiang the Second explained patiently.
In essence, Lord Jiang the Second was creating buzz for Jiang Cang in the worst-case scenario, preparing for the provincial examination three years hence.
In the Cixin Hall, Old Madam Feng heard the outside rumors and sighed heavily, feeling vexed.
She didn’t think it was an exaggeration to say her eldest grandson had the talent to top the examinations. When he began his studies as a child, his first tutor had declared him a natural scholar, predicting that a father-son duo of Jinshi degree holders would become a beautiful tale in the future.
A father and son both achieving the Jinshi degree—what glory that would be!
Old Madam Feng’s heart ached at the mere thought.
If her eldest grandson lacked ability, there would be nothing to be done. But for him to have such talent yet miss this opportunity due to bad luck was truly unbearable.
For over ten days, a gloomy atmosphere hung over the East Peace Marquis’s mansion. Even Jiang Zhan didn’t dare to show off, quietly going about his duties in the Jinwu Guard each day, quickly adapting to his new position.
After the three examination sessions concluded, the results were soon announced, and the top-ranking provincial graduate immediately caught the public’s attention.
The newly minted top graduate was a youth—none other than the renowned Jade Gentleman of the capital, Zhen Heng.
The day after the results were posted was the Deer-Crying Banquet to honor the new provincial graduates. Zhen Heng was the center of attention, receiving countless cups of wine from his fellow graduates.
Youthful success always breeds resentment. Someone made a sour comment: “It’s a pity that Jiang Cang, the East Peace Marquis’s eldest son, couldn’t complete the exam. I’ve seen his answers, and he truly had the talent to top the list.”
Zhen Heng was no bookish pedant who would play the gentleman when provoked, nor had he learned to swallow his pride from his father. He immediately raised an eyebrow and smiled, saying, “Has my learned friend seen my answers, then?”
With that, he called for brush, ink, paper, and inkstone. He swiftly wrote out his answer to the first Four Books question from memory, then tossed aside the brush and sprawled on the table to sleep.
Who could fault a young top graduate for being a bit arrogant after drinking?
Zhen Heng’s handwritten answer quickly circulated among the assembled graduates, then spread outside with astonishing speed.
If Jiang Cang could be called a talented scholar, then Zhen Heng was a genius. When the two sets of answers were compared side by side, Jiang Cang’s responses—which had been the subject of so much regret—suddenly seemed utterly mediocre next to Top Graduate Zhen’s brilliant work.