Under Song Shihuan’s relentless barrage of "intelligence," Song Yu had noticeably thinned by the time the county examination registration approached.
The Prince of Qin, who had never once bothered to curry favor with even the emperor himself, had now sculpted himself into the very image Ye Shijie would admire—all for the sake of a mere county exam.
Even Liuxi found it hard to believe.
"Your Highness, Princess, the mask artisan summoned by His Majesty has arrived."
At Liuxi’s words, Song Yu instinctively touched his face, wondering if the mask would make him handsome.
Moments later, a lean man entered the room, holding a mask as thin as a cicada’s wing.
"Your humble servant, Wei An, greets Your Highness and the Princess."
"Your Highness, His Majesty has chosen the identity of the only son of the Guo family, a landlord in Yong'an County. I have crafted the mask to match his appearance. Please try it on."
Soon, Song Yu wore an entirely new face—one so natural it showed no trace of artifice.
Even Song Shihuan couldn’t help but gulp in astonishment.
Standing before the bronze mirror, Song Yu was clearly pleased with his new visage and casually asked, "What kind of man is this Guo heir? I should know, lest I give myself away."
At this, Wei An’s expression flickered with unease.
Song Yu, sharp as ever, noticed and ordered Liuxi to investigate.
Half an hour later, the study erupted with the sound of crashing objects.
Pointing at his own "face," Song Yu trembled with outrage:
"This Guo Feng was an idle wastrel since childhood, wasting his days carousing with good-for-nothing friends. Only after his wife died a few years ago did he fall ill and finally settle down. And you want me to impersonate such a man?"
"Speak! Was this Shen Qingping’s idea again?"
Song Yu’s nostrils flared in fury, convinced this arrangement was a blatant mockery—as if comparing him to Guo Feng’s former self.
"Your Highness, Young Master Guo’s stature is seventy percent similar to yours. Moreover, he has been secluded in recent years, so few have seen him. This makes the disguise safest," Wei An ventured.
But Song Yu, seething with indignation, refused to listen. After finally shedding his own reputation as a wastrel, he was now forced to take the imperial exams under the name of another ne'er-do-well.
As the atmosphere grew tense, Song Shihuan, who had remained silent until then, spoke up:
"Father, the name Guo Feng is auspicious."
"What?" Song Yu was momentarily baffled.
"It means ‘pass every exam’!" Song Shihuan tilted her head with a smile. "Father, with this name, the heavens themselves are hinting that you’ll excel in the exams."
Instantly, Song Yu’s resentment vanished, replaced by exhilaration.
"Pass every exam"—what a splendid name!
"Good! It’s settled. I’ll take the name Guo Feng."
......
County exam registration required a recommendation from a state scholar, and Guo Feng’s uncle happened to be one of the few in Yong'an County.
Thus, Song Yu obtained his admission slip without a hitch.
Outside the county office’s examination bureau, a group of candidates holding their own slips spotted Song Yu and swaggered over, slinging an arm around him.
"Brother Guo, forced by your father to take the exam too, eh?" One of them, a man with unsteady steps, grinned. "Now that you’ve got the slip, why not join us for a drink? It’s been years since your wife passed—let’s drown our sorrows tonight!"
Before the man could lay a hand on him, Song Yu struck hard, eliciting a howl of pain.
"Guo Feng, don’t push your luck!"
"Exactly! The Guos claim you turned over a new leaf after your wife’s death. Save the act for others—we know you too well."
"Guo Feng, if you had any conscience, would your wife have hanged herself?"
"Silence!" Song Yu’s sharp glare silenced them, sending a chill down their spines. Since when did Guo Feng command such presence?
"Before the county office, you dare slander my name?" Song Yu turned abruptly and pushed open the bureau’s door. "Your Honor, these men have defamed me without cause. I seek justice."
Adapting swiftly to his new identity, Song Yu, now a commoner, naturally appealed to the magistrate.
The men’s misfortune was sealed—for Ye Shijie himself sat inside, reviewing this batch of candidates.
"The imperial exams select virtuous and talented men to serve the people," Ye Shijie declared. With a wave, their admission slips were confiscated. "Such misconduct disqualifies you."
Song Yu raised a brow. Perhaps Old Man Ye wasn’t so detestable after all.
"Thank you, Your Honor."
His booming voice drew Ye Shijie’s scrutiny.
Why did this man seem so familiar?
......
With his admission slip secured, Song Yu moved into the Guo residence.
The Guos treated him like a revered guest, dismissing servants under the pretense of ensuring his undisturbed study—though in truth, they feared exposing his identity. Every detail was handled with utmost caution.
On the eve of the exam, Song Yu met the real Guo Feng.
Pale and frail, Guo Feng looked near death, his voice barely audible. Yet his eyes clung to Song Yu with desperate intensity.
"For Your Highness to take my name... is an honor beyond my worth."
Guo Feng sighed weakly. "When I married, I vowed to pass the exams... to earn my wife a noble title. I failed her."
"But she wouldn’t have hanged herself without reason. I... I searched in vain, until illness consumed me."
"Could Your Highness... uncover the truth? My wife... was a woman of rare goodness."
His words were so faint they might vanish with the wind.
Song Yu stood by the bed in silence before speaking. "I too was once a scoundrel, but I never made vows lightly."
"A promise is worth a thousand pieces of gold."
He despised those who broke their word.
Guo Feng’s face grayed further, the last flicker of hope in his eyes dimming.
Then Song Yu spoke again:
"I take your name. In return, I’ll find the truth of your wife’s death."
Guo Feng coughed violently, overcome with gratitude.
"Thank you, Your Highness... May you pluck the laurel and claim the top honor."
......
The next day, a bitter wind howled.
Long before dawn, lanterns illuminated the street outside the examination hall, crowded with noisy examinees awaiting the gates’ opening.
Meanwhile, in the manor, Song Shihuan knelt before a Buddha statue, praying with devout solemnity.
Just as she bowed—
Creak—
The gates swung open.
