The seventh day of the twelfth month.
The Great Cold had just passed, and the biting wind cut across people’s faces.
The streets outside Brightmoon Tower had already been completely cleared by the Five Cities Military Command.
On either side stood rows of Imperial Guards holding long halberds, the sunlight glinting off their blades in broad flashes of icy brilliance.
The wide avenue was bustling with carriages and travelers.
Lavish coaches, their four corners hung with gilded wind chimes, stretched one after another along the street. The capital’s powerful nobles, as well as successful candidates from across the realm who had passed the special imperial examination, were stepping out of their carriages in succession.
The difference in status was already glaringly obvious before they even crossed the entrance.
A somewhat battered, spacious carriage swayed to a stop at the street corner. The coachman pulled the reins tight with all his strength. The horse snorted, exhaling a cloud of white vapor.
The curtain was roughly thrown aside.
Niu Dazhuang bent over and forced his way out of the cramped carriage.
The blue cotton robe he had only just had made was stretched taut across his sturdy muscles, fitting him rather awkwardly.
He simply failed to notice where he was stepping.
“Ow! Have you got no eyes?”
A scolding voice immediately rang out beside him.
A young nobleman in a lake-blue brocade robe stood there, holding a gilded invitation.
Several drops of muddy water had splashed squarely onto the hem of his robe and the white soles of his brocade boots.
The nobleman lowered his head.
The instant he saw the dirt, disgust appeared on his face.
He pulled out a fragrant silk handkerchief, covered his nose and mouth, and retreated three full steps.
With force, he fanned the air in front of him while looking Niu Dazhuang up and down.
“What a rank, pigsty-like stench! Brightmoon Tower is hosting the First Prince’s Deer Crying Feast today. Those attending are all eminent scholars and respected officials of the court. And yet a peasant farmer smelling of mud and earth like you dares to enter through the main gate?”
His words were utterly merciless. Several young candidates who had been exchanging pleasantries nearby stopped what they were doing and turned to look.
“I heard that the capital’s metropolitan examination produced a Classic Laureate from a commoner’s family. I suppose that must be the fellow before us.” Another noble youth, rolling a pair of jade walnuts in his hand, let out a mocking laugh. “Looking at his build, it’s a shame he isn’t down at the Tongzhou docks hauling sacks.”
Laughter erupted all around them.
Even the servants of the powerful families covered their mouths as they cast lofty, contemptuous looks in his direction.
Niu Dazhuang’s breath caught.
His face instantly flushed crimson, and he could no longer suppress his anger.
With a single punch, he could knock this frail scholar flat in the mud.
Without thinking, Niu Dazhuang took half a step forward.
Seeing his ferocious expression, the noble youth shrank his neck in fright and hurriedly signaled several guards behind him to step forward and block the way.
At that moment, Niu Dazhuang suddenly came to his senses.
He was now a successful candidate listed on the examination rolls.
So long as he did not cause trouble, he would have the chance to appear before the emperor the following year.
If he got into a fight here over a few careless insults and ended up embroiled in a lawsuit, his entire future would be ruined.
Niu Dazhuang clenched his teeth so hard they chattered.
He forcibly stopped himself and swallowed his anger.
Then he lowered his head, slowly loosened his fists, and dragged his feet backward three steps, clearing the main path.
Seeing him retreat, the noble youth immediately puffed out his chest again and sneered, “That’s more like it. Know your place and obediently wait over by the wall.”
“Imperial examinations select men for their true ability with the brush and their practical solutions for governing the realm—not for the Suzhou embroidery on their robes.”
A calm voice cut in from behind.
Everyone turned toward the sound.
A carriage without the slightest gaudy ornament stood at the edge of the street, yet its entire body was crafted from the finest golden-thread nanmu wood.
The direct grandson of the Xingyang Zheng clan and the new Provincial Graduate, Zheng Xiuyuan, stepped down from the carriage.
He wore none of the dazzling, brightly colored silks favored by the others. Instead, he was dressed in a simple moon-white brocade robe.
In the shadows, the fabric seemed utterly unremarkable. Yet as the sunlight shifted across it, faint ripples like water shimmered beneath its surface.
It was none other than Flowing-Cloud Brocade, a priceless fabric worth its weight in gold and obtainable only through an imperial gift.
There were no pendants hanging from Zheng Xiuyuan’s waist. A single blue-green cord held in place a flawless piece of ancient mutton-fat jade.
Zheng Xiuyuan handed his red invitation to the clerk receiving guests at the entrance. Then he turned to look at the insolent noble youth.
“Once the court has conferred a degree upon him, he is the Classic Laureate. He has every right to enter through the main gate. If you find the smell of his clothes unpleasant, you are welcome to change in the rear courtyard. Do not disgrace refined conduct here at the entrance.”
Zheng Xiuyuan gave a cold snort, clearly displeased.
The young man’s face shifted between green and white.
Had anyone else reprimanded him, he would certainly have argued to the bitter end.
But the man standing before him was the public face of the Xingyang Zheng clan—and the top-ranked candidate of this year’s examination.
He could not afford to provoke him.
The young nobleman gave two awkward laughs and sheepishly fell silent.
He turned, slapped his invitation onto the clerk’s desk, and swept into the building with a flick of his sleeve.
Even so, the rejection evident in his departing figure remained unmistakable.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted at the far end of the avenue.
It was a roar rising from deep within thousands of throats.
The thousands of impoverished students and failed scholars gathered beyond the cordon all rose onto their toes, craning their necks to see what was happening.
Amid the procession of richly dressed riders and fine horses, Xu Zijin came walking on foot. He was not riding in any carriage or mounted on any horse.
His clothes were not ostentatious, yet they revealed an exceptionally refined elegance and understated dignity.
He wore a jade-colored brocade robe of superb quality, its crisp cut accentuating the faint patterns woven into the fabric. Over it lay a pure-white snow-fox cloak, so immaculate that not a single stray hair could be found upon it. In his hand, he held an old-fashioned green silk umbrella with a purple-bamboo handle and twenty-four ribs, shielding him from the occasional snowflakes drifting down from the sky.
“Xu, the provincial runner-up!”
Someone was the first to shout himself hoarse.
In the next instant, the entire avenue exploded.
“Xu, the provincial runner-up!”
“Foremost Scholar of the New Learning!”
The cries of thousands of impoverished students merged into a tremendous wave of sound that surged straight into the heavens.
Its thunderous force completely drowned out the noise of the nobles’ carriages and horses.
Listening to the deafening cheers, Xu Zijin smiled and repeatedly clasped his hands toward the people surrounding him.
The chief steward of the First Prince’s residence, standing on the steps of Brightmoon Tower, heard the commotion and his expression shifted.
Without the slightest hesitation, he lifted the hem of his robe and hurried down the dozens of steps.
Ignoring the astonished looks of the various candidates and officials nearby, the steward walked directly toward Xu Zijin and stopped three feet in front of him.
He bent at the waist in a respectful bow.
“Xu, the provincial runner-up, the wind and snow outside are bitterly cold! His Highness has been waiting upstairs for quite some time and has ordered this subordinate to receive you here and escort you inside.”
With that, the steward extended both hands and took the old paper umbrella from Xu Zijin.
The gesture caused all the young noblemen nearby to widen their eyes.
Xu Zijin released the umbrella handle and returned the greeting.
“My thanks, Chief Steward.”
After thanking him, Xu Zijin glanced toward the group of high-ranking officials in crimson robes and eminent scholars standing beneath Brightmoon Tower’s eaves.
He smiled faintly, lifted the hem of his robe, and stepped onto the stairs.
On the top floor of Brightmoon Tower—
First Prince Xiao Jingxing sat in a broad chair at the very front.
The shouts from below passed clearly through the windows and into the hall.
Everything was unfolding exactly as he had calculated.
The emperor had left the memorials impeaching Xu Zijin unanswered. That meant His Majesty had not condemned the New Learning outright; instead, he had left it a way to survive.
In other words, was he not testing whether the First Prince or he himself would dare to take responsibility for it?
The struggle for the throne was a life-and-death battle.
To yield even half a step was to be crushed to pieces.
The Third Prince was still pretending to play dead.
He had to take the bait!
He would use the prestige of the New Learning to bring the common-born scholars into the game. By establishing Xu Zijin as a figurehead, he would win the hearts of the countless scholars from humble backgrounds across the realm. In time, their support would become his sharpest blade—a weapon he could wield to command the Six Ministries and eliminate the constraints imposed by the great clans of Jiangnan.
In a corner of the hall, several high-ranking ministers and venerable members of eminent clans were whispering among themselves.
“Judging by the commotion outside, that little upstart really has set the chaos of this realm ablaze,” said Zhou Mingyuan, Left Vice Minister of the Ministry of Personnel, lowering his voice as he held his wine cup.
Song Zhiyuan let out a cold snort and tightened his grip on the cup. “The First Prince has been blinded by him. He actually treats this heretic, who would destroy the orthodox tradition, as an honored guest. Just wait. At the banquet, I’d like to see how much learning he truly has—and how long it can withstand the questioning of all these upright scholars.”
Before the two men had even finished speaking, the music and strings in the hall had yet to begin, while countless gazes had already intertwined.
Xu Zijin entered the hall. Facing those scrutinizing eyes, he merely answered them with a faint, enigmatic smile.
Under the watchful eyes of all the gathered nobles, Xu Zijin composed his expression, straightened his robes, and bowed deeply.
“Provincial Candidate Xu Zijin pays his respects to Your Highness, the First Prince.”
His manner was neither servile nor arrogant. His etiquette was impeccable, yet he showed none of the sycophancy or apprehension that ordinary people displayed upon seeing royalty.
Seated in a broad-backed chair, First Prince Xiao Jingxing’s eyes flashed faintly at those words. Then he threw back his head and laughed heartily.
He deliberately leaned forward and raised a hand in a gesture of invitation, putting on a convincing display of humility before talent.
“Xu, the provincial runner-up, you need not bow! Your astonishing essay has inspired scholars from humble backgrounds throughout the realm, and even Imperial Father has heard of it. At today’s Deer-Cry Banquet, you are truly an honored guest. Come, take your seat!”
Xu Zijin walked to the table bearing his name.
He lifted the hem of his robe, pulled out the wooden chair, and sat down without the slightest hesitation.
Xu Zijin immediately reached out, picked up the teapot on the table, and poured himself a full cup of clear tea.
Wisps of steam curled above the tea.
He lifted the cup, blew away the froth floating on its surface, and quietly waited for the real show to begin.
