"It was the wind that blew the door open, Your Majesty."
Wu Qi quickly spoke up, not daring to admit he had opened it himself.
Emperor Yuanyou glanced at Wu Qi several times, only relaxing when he saw no unusual expression on the eunuch's face. Satisfied that his earlier behavior hadn’t been witnessed, he closed the door and bowed respectfully toward the ancestral tablets.
"My apologies for the impropriety just now. I hope our ancestors will not take offense."
Outside, Wu Qi exhaled sharply in relief. Life was like a play—survival depended on acting skills. He had nearly lost his life over this.
After paying his respects, Emperor Yuanyou felt it wasn’t enough. If he was the only one bowing, would the ancestors find his sincerity lacking?
An hour later, Song Yu was urgently summoned to the palace.
"Father, what’s the emergency?"
Song Yu rushed in, only to find Emperor Yuanyou leisurely sipping tea.
"Must there be an emergency for me to call you here?"
Song Yu was speechless.
At such a critical time, the old man still had the leisure to toy with him?
Before Song Yu could say something reckless, Emperor Yuanyou pulled him mysteriously toward the ancestral hall.
"Though this place isn’t as grand as Yong'an County, it’s still good for you to pay respects." He handed Song Yu three sticks of sandalwood incense. "Be sincere. Do not disrespect our ancestors."
Song Yu froze for a moment. "Father, have you bowed yet?"
"Of course not!" Emperor Yuanyou retorted without hesitation. "You’re the one taking the imperial exams, not me. Why should I bow? Besides, I am the Son of Heaven!"
Song Yu pouted. "But you’re still my father."
"Enough nonsense. Bow quickly." Emperor Yuanyou gritted his teeth, urging him. "Once you’re done, return to your residence and focus on your studies."
Song Yu obeyed.
After all, during the last provincial exam, he had been assigned a seat near the foul-smelling latrine. He figured the ancestors must have thought him insincere—they had granted him some favor, but not enough.
With this in mind, he grabbed a thick bundle of incense, kowtowed several times, and knocked his forehead loudly against the floor.
"Ancestors above, grant me the title of Zhuangyuan (top scholar). That way, you’ll have bragging rights in the underworld too."
What nonsense was this?!
The moment Song Yu finished, Emperor Yuanyou kicked him out of the ancestral hall.
Then, he secretly bowed to the tablets again, praying the ancestors wouldn’t hold his son’s words against him.
......
On the first day of February, less than ten days remained before the metropolitan exam.
The capital seemed to quieten in anticipation. People hurried through the streets, avoiding any disturbance to the scholars—after all, these were provincial graduates, men who could become officials.
Compared to previous exams, fewer candidates participated this time, and none were exceptionally young or old.
"The metropolitan exam lasts three sessions over nine days. If an elderly man were to take it, he might collapse in the examination hall and never leave."
Inside Prince Qin’s residence, Song Yu was trying on padded knee protectors and other warm clothing as he spoke.
A decade of hardship in study, nine grueling days in the exam hall—such was the life of a scholar.
"Even the strong can fall ill or faint from exhaustion. Father must wear all of these." Song Shihuan sighed softly. "As for food, Grand Tutor advised bringing dry flatbread, cured meat strips, and tea to stay alert."
"Don’t worry, Ahuan. A little hardship means nothing."
Song Yu pinched her cheek affectionately. Dressed in specially thickened robes, he felt thoroughly warm.
"Your father will strive for first place in the metropolitan exam, then the palace exam. When I parade through the streets as Zhuangyuan, you’ll ride with me."
Just imagining the scene made it hard to suppress his grin.
The spring breeze would carry his triumph, his beloved daughter seated proudly before him.
"Ah, right." He smacked his forehead. "Liuxi, how are the bets at the gambling houses now?"
"Your Highness, hardly anyone is backing Guo Feng. We stand to win big."
Liuxi’s eyes gleamed—he had wagered his entire savings on his master.
"Excellent."
Song Yu nodded in satisfaction. "I never fight battles I can’t win."
He looked up to find Liuxi staring at him dumbly. "What is it? Is something wrong with me?"
"Your Highness, your forehead... hasn’t fully healed yet."
Hadn’t he just gone to kowtow a few times at the ancestral hall?
"My sincerity was excessive."
Song Yu remained utterly unruffled.
Meanwhile, in the Purple Palace.
"Your Majesty, it’s time to apply medicine to your forehead."
Wu Qi’s voice prompted Emperor Yuanyou to remove his crown. For days, he had relied on it to conceal the bruising.
"Ah, age brings such clumsiness—one bumps into things so easily."
His deliberately mournful tone nearly made Wu Qi laugh aloud.
After Prince Qin had left the ancestral hall that day, the Emperor had lingered inside for a long time. When he emerged, his forehead bore faint bruises.
But laughter or life? Wu Qi knew which to choose.
After carefully applying the medicine, Wu Qi exhaled in relief. "It’s almost fully healed now."
Emperor Yuanyou relaxed inwardly.
At least no one had noticed.
......
On the eve of the exam, Song Shihuan knocked on the study door late at night.
"It’s so late. Why aren’t you asleep, Ahuan?"
"Father, may you achieve greatness."
She held a red lantern, a golden necklace around her neck—like a celestial child bestowing blessings.
"Is that all?" The tension in Song Yu’s chest eased at her presence. He gestured toward the Eastern Palace. "Your father will surely succeed. Soon, we’ll move there."
Together, they would overwrite painful memories with joy.
Song Shihuan laughed like silver chimes. "Of course not. There’s one more thing."
Song Yu bent down tenderly, tilting his ear toward her with solemn anticipation.
Her eyes curved like crescent moons.
"May you be free from sorrow."
For triumph, and for peace.
On the eighth of February, as the ice began to melt in the year’s bitterest cold, breaths still hung white in the air. The lazy struggled to rise from bed.
Before dawn, Song Yu was already dressed, attended only by Liuxi to avoid disturbing the rest of the household.
When he pushed open the courtyard gate, he found Song Shihuan waiting, her hood drawn tight against the chill.
"It’s too cold out here. Go back inside and wait for me."
His heart ached at the sight.
"Alright." She nodded obediently, double-checking his belongings before waving him off.
She couldn’t escort him to the examination hall—this was as far as she could go.
"I’m off."
With a faint smile, Song Yu turned and strode away.
Even after the gates closed, Song Shihuan kept watching the direction he had gone.
The metropolitan exam of the thirty-ninth year of Emperor Yuanyou’s reign had begun.
And she knew—her father would emerge its greatest victor.
Top scholar.
