October 30th. The sky was overcast.
The street in front of the capital’s examination hall.
An old man called Uncle Qi was busy setting up a pot at the street corner to sell “success porridge”—a dish meant to bring luck to those hoping to pass the examinations.
Uncle Qi wiped the sweat and soot from his face with the towel draped over his shoulder, then looked up.
The entire street was packed with people.
There were still half a day to go before the results were posted, yet the scholars and commoners there for the spectacle had already crammed themselves beneath the tall wall of the examination hall until not even a trickle of water could pass through.
“Ow! Stop pushing! You’ve knocked off my cloth shoes! I just bought those!”
An anxious shout erupted from the crowd.
“Make way up front! Do you really think squeezing all the way to the wall will guarantee you pass?”
Though they claimed they were leaving it all to fate, their feet never stopped moving.
They did not even leave enough room for a wheelbarrow to get through.
Inside a roadside tea stall.
The four open sides of the shed did little to keep out the chill.
Several greasy tables were filled with people wearing anxious expressions.
When people gathered together, conversation was inevitable.
An old examination candidate with graying hair and a faded scholar’s robe was seething with resentment.
“Heaven is unjust! Truly, heaven is unjust!”
His cheeks puffed out as he spoke, his voice full of helplessness.
“This year, the number of successful candidates from our prefecture was already cut again and again. Then, right before the examination, dozens of registered students from the Imperial College came rushing in from Jiangnan!”
He pounded his fist against his chest, his eyes bleak.
“Those sons of powerful families arrived with recommendation letters from influential officials in hand, and immediately took several of the best spots!”
The old candidate looked around the stall, his eyes reddening.
“We poor scholars have spent our whole lives burning oil late into the night to study the sages’ teachings. This time, I’m afraid we won’t even make it past the examination graders. Our papers have probably already been swept into the wastebasket by those examiners!”
His words struck a nerve among the impoverished scholars present.
The tea stall instantly filled with sighs, and the atmosphere grew heavy.
At that moment, a noise came from the corner.
A down-and-out scholar who had failed the examinations three times in a row lifted the large bowl in his hands.
“Heh.”
The scholar gave a cold laugh.
The old candidate glared at him. “What are you laughing at?”
“I’m laughing at how you’ve grown old without ever seeing clearly the state of Great Qian’s court.”
The impoverished scholar stood and brushed at his faded sleeves, his gaze sharp.
“No matter how few the slots are, no matter how many outsiders have come in, whether our papers are suppressed in the end depends entirely on where Lord Yan’s red brush draws its line this year!”
He took a step forward and came to the long table.
“The great fire in front of the Imperial College this year burned away the dignity of the old school. As the chief examiner, if Lord Yan wants to preserve the integrity of the examination system, he absolutely cannot let his brush follow the wishes of the great families entirely.”
“The path for scholars from humble homes may not yet be cut off!”
The tea stall fell silent at once. The old candidate opened and closed his mouth, unable to find a reply.
…
At the same time, the street corner opposite was just as tightly packed.
A long table covered with burlap had been brazenly set up by the roadside.
The betting pool for the provincial examinations was in full swing.
A boy keeping the accounts stood on a bench, brush in hand, calling out the names and odds for all to hear.
“Second Young Master Zhou, renowned for his literary talent—two to one!”
“Only son of the salt merchant south of the city, instructed by a famous master—five to one!”
“Xu Zijin, guest of the Xu residence—three to one! Three to one!”
The crowd below murmured among themselves, hands weighing copper coins in their pockets.
A loafer cracking melon seeds shouted loudly, “Bet on Xu Zijin? That’s like throwing real copper into the river!”
His face was full of mockery, and he spoke with disdain, even rolling his eyes.
“If I remember correctly, he wrote an essay not long ago that caused an uproar throughout the city.”
“I can’t understand it myself, but I do know that the learned men of the Imperial College nearly tore the place apart over it.”
“Do you really think the high officials at court will let him pass? They’ll surely suppress it with a single stroke and nail his name to the list of failures!”
Several gamblers beside him joined in the jeering.
“Exactly! He might not even make it past the examiners!”
“Anyone who touches that case will have bad luck. Put your ready cash on it and you’ll lose the trousers off your backside!”
The loafer toyed with a string of cash coins in his hand, preparing to call out a bet on Second Young Master Zhou.
“Make way. Let me through.”
A short, skinny figure forced her way through the gap between two burly men.
It was an old flower seller.
She walked with faltering steps, her back hunched high—clearly the result of a long-standing ailment.
The old woman opened the cloth pouch she wore close to her body.
Her trembling fingers reached inside and fumbled around for a long while before finally pulling out a small string of copper coins threaded on a darkened red cord.
Everyone could see that the designs on the coins had long since been rubbed smooth, and some of their edges were chipped.
The old woman slapped the string of coins heavily onto the account boy’s table, beside the wooden marker bearing the name “Xu Zijin.”
The betting stall fell silent in an instant.
The account boy froze, his face filled with confusion. He suspected that the old woman did not understand the odds and was just about to offer her some advice when the loafer turned in astonishment.
He looked the dirt-poor old woman up and down and sneered before anyone else could speak.
“Old granny, did you forget to pray before leaving home? Have you taken leave of your senses? This is a bottomless pit that only eats money!”
He pointed at the string of old coins.
“Wouldn’t it be better to keep that money and buy half a catty of offal at the market on the street ahead, or two pounds of coarse-flour flatbread? Throw it all in here, and tomorrow you’ll be drinking the northwest wind!”
The old woman did not grow angry at his words.
Instead, her voice held nothing but hope and expectation, along with her blessing for Xu Zijin.
“I can’t read, and I don’t understand any of those essays written by the great men you keep talking about. But this old woman knows one simple truth.”
She tapped the name on the table.
“Half a month ago, it was already completely dark. Scholar Xu met me selling flowers outside the Xu residence.”
Her eyes grew distant, and her voice was laden with the weariness and emotion of a lifetime.
“There were only a few flowers left in my basket, and their petals were already about to fall. No one would buy them. But Scholar Xu bought every last one!”
She straightened her bent back a little.
“He paid exactly what they were worth, without holding back even a single coin. He paid the full price.”
The old woman withdrew her hand.
“If even a young man like that—someone who does not bully the poor and who has a conscience—cannot pass Great Qian’s examinations, then heaven truly is blind!”
Among the onlookers, several small merchants who had been laughing along slowly wiped the amusement from their faces.
A man carrying a pole topped with candied hawthorns fell silent for a moment.
He reached into the pouch at his waist and rummaged around. After a few searches, he pulled out three small copper coins slick with sweat and grime.
He stepped forward and stacked the coins atop the old woman’s string of cash.
“All right, all right! I like what you said, old woman. Count me in—I’ll follow your bet on Scholar Xu.”
Next, a peddler selling straw sandals squeezed forward and tossed down five coins.
“And me.”
The loafer opened and closed his mouth as he watched the filthy little coins pile up beneath Xu Zijin’s name. He swallowed the mockery that had risen to his lips, then gave a cold snort.
“Hmph! Don’t come begging me for money when you lose!”
