Night fell.
In the capital, the circle of scholars split into clearly defined camps beneath the darkness.
Inside an extravagant guildhall in the eastern part of the city, with carved beams and painted rafters, every door and window was tightly shut against the chill outside.
The heated flooring burned brightly within, filling the rooms with warm, hazy air.
Several young scholars dressed in brocade and silk, each convinced he had a good chance of passing the imperial examination, gathered around a table.
One of them, clad in fine robes, held his brush poised above the paper, his face bright with delight.
“Hahahaha! Gentlemen, the night is long, and there’s no point in waiting around doing nothing! How about we compose a poem together to await the release of the results? Tomorrow, it might even bring us good fortune among the capital’s scholars!”
The others readily agreed. Seeing this, the richly dressed scholar’s lips curled into a smile.
He lowered his brush and wrote with rapid strokes, the ink spreading across the xuan paper.
The others leaned closer to look, and knowing smiles appeared on their faces.
The first and last characters of the lines concealed the examination-cell numbers and native prefectures and counties of every one of them.
“Excellent! Excellent!”
Another scholar clapped his hands and laughed heartily.
“First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll have someone deliver this poem directly to the residence of an official in the Ministry of Rites whom we know. No matter what our rankings are, our bond as classmates from the same examination cohort will be firmly established.”
Across the street stood a restaurant.
On the second-floor gallery, an old scholar of some renown, his hair disheveled and his dress deliberately unrestrained, leaned against a redwood railing.
He held a white porcelain wine jar in one hand and was half drunk.
The old scholar narrowed his bleary eyes and looked down at the servants hurrying through the streets below, desperately trying to gather news.
He tipped back his head and took a long gulp of strong liquor.
“Coming first is too conspicuous!”
The old scholar gave a loud belch and shouted drunkenly, “Once you take the top spot, everyone under Heaven will have their eyes fixed on you! Make even the slightest mistake, and those censors and remonstrating officials will swallow you alive.”
He slapped the redwood railing with all his strength, sending splinters flying.
“Look any lower, and all you’ll find are mediocre, unremarkable men. They pass somewhere in the middle, then spend their entire lives rotting away in some prefectural or county office. What hope is there in that?”
The old scholar suddenly burst into laughter, his body swaying violently.
“Only second place is truly difficult!”
He leaned halfway over the railing and pointed in the direction of the examination compound.
“The runner-up! He has none of the prestige of the man above him, yet he is still ranked higher than thousands of proud and ambitious scholars below. Without anyone to support him, he nevertheless occupies a lofty position. That makes him the easiest to resent—and the most likely to invite disaster!”
These drunken ravings, mixed with a measure of truth, drifted away on the dry, cold night wind and reached the ears of several scholars waiting for the results at the street corner below.
The men had been standing at the foot of the steps, anxiously awaiting word.
The moment they heard those words, their expressions changed.
“Second place is the hardest…”
“There’s actually some truth to that!”
One of them muttered the words again. Then, as if suddenly enlightened, he said, “What if…”
His throat tightened. He swallowed with difficulty, and his voice trembled.
“What if the person placed second this year—whether because he was pushed down by the examiner, or because the chief examiner deliberately forced him into that position—is that ruthless fellow who wrote the New Learning essay?”
The others shuddered.
“Have you lost your mind? How dare you say something like that in the middle of the street!”
One of them quickly reached out, clapped a hand over his companion’s mouth, and dragged him into a shadowed alley.
…
The night deepened.
Along both sides of the main street, the night watchmen carried lanterns and struck their clappers listlessly as the third watch passed.
On an ordinary night, the city would have been under curfew at this hour, and not a single person would have been seen outside.
But tonight, with the autumn examinations fanning the flames, business throughout the city was thriving more than ever.
In the rear courtyard of a fireworks shop in the southern part of the city, the potbellied proprietor carried an oil lamp and urged several porters on, sweating profusely.
“Move faster! Stop dawdling! Get that batch of Sky-Riser Grand Crackers that’s been sitting in storage for two years out of the warehouse—all of it!”
The laborers struggled beneath the weight of the thick rolls wrapped in red paper, panting heavily.
“Boss, these usually sell for half a tael of silver per string. What should we change the price to?”
The proprietor slammed a palm onto the abacus on the counter and pushed two beads across.
“Double it! Mark them at one tael of silver!”
His bloodshot eyes bulged.
“Once tonight is over, which newly successful scholar’s family won’t want to put on a show? Passing the examination is a momentous celebration. They’ll gladly pay one tael for a blast loud enough to reach the heavens! And anyone who haggles is inviting bad luck!”
On another street near the examination compound, several sharp-eyed brokers carrying windproof lanterns were leading more than a dozen well-dressed prospective graduates through the uneven lanes toward the rear alley.
“Ladies, take a good look. The property beneath your feet is a three-courtyard residence, complete with a well, guest rooms, and stables.”
The broker pushed open a weathered wooden door, his face covered in an ingratiating smile.
“If you reserve this residence now, you can be the first to share in the good fortune of the new graduates. Once your husbands place on the examination list tomorrow, you can immediately use the property to host a grand banquet in honor of their teachers.”
A silk-clad wife hesitantly twisted her handkerchief.
“But the results are being posted tomorrow, and my husband hasn’t received any definite news yet. What if he doesn’t pass…”
The broker’s expression instantly fell, but he quickly plastered another smile onto his face and replied:
“Oh, my lady! No matter what place he comes in, you’ll have to host a banquet for his fellow examinees and his examiner! If you don’t reserve the place now, the rent for this courtyard will be doubled by tomorrow!”
A shrewd bargain.
A coveted honor that could send a man soaring to the heavens.
Both were churning and fermenting wildly through the long, endless night.
Moisture in the air condensed into a layer of white frost.
The street outside the Xu residence.
A plump matchmaker clutched an old paper lantern and kept to the shadows beneath the eaves, skulking about like a thief.
In her hand was a small blue booklet.
It contained a list of the unmarried daughters of influential families throughout the capital.
By the faint, jaundiced lantern light, the matchmaker flipped to a certain page.
There, in delicate regular script, were the words: “Guest Courtyard of the Xu Residence, Scholar Xu, Xu Zijin.”
The matchmaker picked up a fine wolf-hair brush, wet its bristles with her tongue, and drew a faint circle beside the name.
Once she was done,
she drew her brows tightly together and pondered for a full ten breaths.
Tsk! The currents at court were a tangled mess.
Even now, the Xu family’s attitude remained murky. They had shown not the slightest intention of arranging the marriage.
The heretical essay written by Scholar Xu was enough to make even the old professors of the Imperial Academy leap up in fury, cursing him and threatening to strip his flesh from his bones.
To be sure, there were also a few professors of the highest standing who supported him…
But if he failed the examinations,
he would be doomed forever, with no hope of ever rising again.
And if he passed at the top of the list,
he would inevitably become the target of the aristocratic clans’ collective condemnation. Sooner or later, his head would roll.
The matchmaker’s hand trembled uncontrollably around the brush.
She made up her mind.
Immediately, she dipped the brush into the inkstone, loading it with thick black ink.
Then, with one vicious stroke,
she blacked out Xu Zijin’s name and the circle around it completely, until not a trace of the original writing remained.
“Forget it, forget it. This hot potato isn’t worth touching. I’d rather not go to all that trouble only to end up inviting disaster and getting burned myself.”
The matchmaker put away the booklet, snuffed out the lantern, and slipped away along the wall, disappearing down the alley.
