Spring Exam results were posted on the fifteenth day of the third lunar month.
Before dawn had even broken, the area outside the examination hall was already a sea of people. On this early spring morning in the capital, the chill still lingered in the air, carrying with it the remnants of winter's bite, stinging cold against the skin. Yet this did nothing to dampen the candidates' fervor.
Some had arrived before sunrise, wrapped in thick fur cloaks, huddled against the walls, staring eagerly at the tightly shut gates of the examination grounds. Others had taken it even further—choosing not to go home at all the previous night, settling instead at a nearby tea stall just to be sure they wouldn't miss the moment the results were posted.
Now, the open space before the examination hall was a solid mass of people.
There were wealthy young gentlemen in fine clothes, poor scholars in patched robes, gray-haired veterans of the exams, and fresh-faced youths barely out of boyhood. Voices from every corner of the land mingled together in a low, ceaseless hum, like a pot of porridge boiling over.
Everyone was pushing forward.
Craning their necks, rising on their tiptoes, almost ready to shove those ahead of them out of the way just to stand a little closer, to see a little clearer.
"Stop pushing!"
"Who stepped on my foot!"
"Would the people up front stop backing up!"
The clamor of voices rose and fell, punctuated by angry curses. From time to time, someone would stumble, knocked off balance, only to be swept forward again by the tide of bodies, helplessly carried along.
The tall wall in front of the examination hall remained empty, bare.
But every single pair of eyes was fixed on that blank space, as if by staring long enough and hard enough, the list might appear on its own.
Yuanbao felt like he was being squeezed into a meat patty. As the servant, he certainly wasn't going to let his Young Master endure this crowd. So the job fell to him, Yuanbao.
Just as the sky began to lighten, he had set out from the marquis's estate, jogging all the way to the examination grounds. When he left, he thought to himself that he must be coming early enough. After all, checking the results was a matter of great importance, and the Marquis's household had treated him well. He couldn't afford to let them down.
But when he arrived at the examination hall—
Good heavens!
So many people were already there!
All the good spots were taken. He could only stand at the edge of the crowd, rising on his toes to peer inside. But he wasn't particularly tall to begin with, and even on tiptoe, all he could see were rows upon rows of dark heads.
Just as he was thinking about finding a better spot, the crowd behind him surged forward.
One after another.
Wave after wave.
Like a market day rush, the throng pressed onward, and Yuanbao found himself trapped in the middle—unable to move forward and unable to retreat.
He was carried this way and that, swaying left and right, wobbling like one of those roly‑poly dolls, rocking back and forth, stumbling every which way.
"Stop pushing!" Yuanbao shouted at the top of his lungs.
No one paid him any mind.
Those behind kept pressing forward; those ahead stood like a wall. Yuanbao was caught in the middle, his chest crushed against the back of the person in front of him, his own back battered by the person behind. Even breathing was becoming difficult.
Yuanbao felt like crying.
He should have brought two servants along with him. At least then he'd have some backup. But now, alone and helpless, squeezed in this crowd, he had no one to call on and nowhere to turn.
Just then—
The gates of the examination hall swung open.
The two vermillion gates slid apart slowly, letting out a dull creak. The sound wasn't loud, but it struck the crowd like a clap of thunder, instantly silencing every voice.
All eyes turned in unison toward the entrance.
Several officials from the Ministry of Rites emerged from within. The first of them held a scroll of bright yellow silk in his hands—this was the Spring Exam results list. Behind them followed two rows of guards in gleaming armor, long swords at their hips, each wearing a stoic, cold-eyed expression.
The crowd instinctively parted as if swayed by some religious zeal, creating a narrow path. It wasn't that everyone had suddenly become polite; rather, the gleaming blades at the guards' waists spoke more eloquently than any words.
The official reached the high wall where the list would be posted.
He stopped.
The guards fanned out on either side, separating the crowd, clearing an open space.
The official unfurled the yellow list, brushed a layer of paste onto the wall, and pressed the list into place. His movements were unhurried and deliberate, as if this were the most ordinary task in the world.
But everyone's heart was racing, suspended at the very tip of their throat.
The moment the yellow list touched the wall, the crowd erupted.
"It's up! It's up!"
"Let me see! Let me see!"
"You people in front, move aside!"
The brief calm imposed by the guards' blades burst forth in full force. The crowd surged like a flood breaking through a dam, a tidal wave of humanity rushing forward, and even the fierce guards could not hold back the thousands of desperate, red-rimmed eyes.
Before Yuanbao could react, he was shoved forward by the people behind him.
He stumbled, nearly falling flat on his face. He fought to steady himself, but realized he had no control over his direction. He was swept along by the current like a fallen leaf carried by a wave.
He didn't know how many times he was pushed.
How many times his feet were stepped on.
At last, he stumbled and squeezed his way to the front of the list.
He steadied himself, not bothering to straighten his rumpled clothes. His eyes went straight to the top of the list.
First place—Liu Zhixing.
Not his Young Master.
Yuanbao froze for a moment. A surge of indignation rose in his chest. Someone as learned and cultured as my Young Master, and he can't even be the top candidate? Could the examiners be so blind?
He muttered a few complaints under his breath, but didn't dare say them aloud. He forced himself to keep reading.
Second place—no.
Third place—no.
Fourth place—no.
Fifth place—no, either.
Yuanbao's heart sank lower and lower. Could it be that his Young Master had failed the exam? That could not be! His Young Master was so brilliant, how could he possibly...
His eyes finally landed on the sixth position. He let out a long breath of relief.
Sixth place: Shuntian Prefecture, Weiyuan Marquis Estate, Pei Cijing.
Yuanbao's eyes went wide. He read it once, twice, three times, making absolutely sure he hadn't misread a single character. Then he smiled. He grinned from ear to ear, his teeth showing and eyes crinkling.
He passed!
His Young Master passed!
Sixth place in the Spring Exam!
It wasn't as high as he had hoped, but this was the Spring Exam! Out of all the candidates from across the empire! To rank in the top ten meant the chief examiner's judgment wasn't so bad after all!
Yuanbao was so excited he nearly jumped for joy. But with the crowd still pressing in from behind, he couldn't move. He could only stand there grinning like a fool who had just found a pot of gold.
When he was done laughing, he knew he had to hurry back with the good news.
Yuanbao turned around and started fighting his way out. But getting in was one thing; getting out was even harder.
In front of him was a solid wall of people. Head after head, shoulder brushing shoulder, with no gap to squeeze through.
He tried to push left—someone blocked him. He tried to push right—someone shoved him back. He tried to slip sideways through a crack in the crowd, but the moment he took a step, someone from behind slammed into him and knocked him off balance.
Yuanbao took a deep breath, grit his teeth, pressed himself against the wall, and inched his way outward.
The crowd behind him kept pressing forward. He was like a fish swimming against the current, every step costing him tremendous effort. His clothes were crumpled and twisted. His shoes had been stepped on who knew how many times. His hair bun was crooked, strands of hair falling loose, leaving him a total mess.
He shouted, "Will you all stop pushing! Just let me out!"
But his voice was swallowed up by the noise of the crowd, so faint he could barely hear it himself.
……
Weiyuan Marquis Manor, Wealth and Fortune Courtyard.
The main hall.
Everyone from the second branch of the family had gathered, even his maternal grandfather Zhou Youfu and third uncle Zhou Dahe were present. They had all come together to await the results of Pei Cijing’s metropolitan examination.
Madam Zhou stood in the center of the hall, pacing back and forth.
Today she wore a brand-new pomegranate-red embroidered jacket, and her hair was adorned with gold-inlaid jeweled hairpins. Her entire demeanor carried more gravity than usual.
Yet her face was etched with anxiety.
Pei Cijing sat beside Shen Ninghuan, half-leaning back in his chair, his eyes half-open, half-closed, looking as if he hadn’t woken up yet.
He had been dragged out of bed by Madam Zhou this morning.
Originally, he had planned to sleep until he naturally woke up and simply wait for Yuanbao to return with the list of successful candidates. After all, the exam was over, the outcome was already set—there was no point in rushing, and no reason to panic.
But Madam Zhou thought otherwise.
With something as momentous as the results being announced, how could anyone still sleep?
So, before the sky was fully light, Madam Zhou stormed into the Peace and Joy Residence, yanked off his blanket, and hauled him out of bed. At that moment, Pei Cijing was still dreaming.
He dreamed he had traveled back to his previous life. After being choked by a melon seed and rescued, he groggily woke up to see a figure before him—the newly appointed, multibillionaire female CEO of his company, who said that getting choked on a melon seed at work counted as a workplace injury and that she would take responsibility for him.
And the female CEO’s face was unmistakably identical to his wife’s.
Pei Cijing looked shy.
He was just figuring out how to reply so he could enjoy the easy life with dignity.
Then his mother slapped him awake.
Half-conscious, Pei Cijing was dragged to the main hall, washed his face, combed his hair, changed his clothes, and sat down in a chair, his mind still not fully clear.
He let out a big yawn, tears almost streaming down his face.
Seeing him like this, Madam Zhou couldn’t help but say, “You brat, what time is it and you’re still dozing off? Don’t you know today’s the day the results are announced!”
“Mother, please don’t be impatient. I’ve already sent Yuanbao to check the list. We’ll know the result soon enough. Dragging me out of bed this early won’t make the list post any faster, will it?”
Madam Zhou raised an eyebrow, pointed a finger at his nose, and said with a tone full of disappointment: “You brat! Show some care! Something this important, and you can’t even take it seriously? Aren’t you nervous at all?”
Pei Cijing spread his hands, a look of innocence on his face: “Mother, the exam’s over. The outcome is already set. What good would being nervous do? It’s not like I can push my ranking higher by fretting. So instead, I might as well keep a level head, eat when it’s time to eat, sleep when it’s time to sleep, and just wait for the news.”
Madam Zhou was momentarily at a loss for words.
She opened her mouth, wanting to scold him a bit, but couldn’t find the right thing to say.
This boy’s twisted logic sounded absurd when you first heard it, but upon closer thought, there was some sense to it. Yet when applied to something as life-changing as the exam results, it somehow felt… like asking for a beating!
Should she praise him for his good attitude, or label him as a dead pig unafraid of scalding water?
Thinking it over, she decided not to scold him—after all, he was her own flesh and blood, and losing control could easily backfire on her.
Madam Zhou took a deep breath, swallowed her frustration, and shot Pei Cijing another glare, her eyes clearly saying: Just you wait; I’ll settle accounts with you later.
Seeing this, Shen Ninghuan found it both amusing and exasperating. She got up and walked over to Madam Zhou.
Taking her hand, she gently soothed her: “Mother, please don’t worry. My father assessed Husband some time ago and said his scholarly attainments are sufficient. As long as his luck isn’t too bad, passing the exam won’t be hard.”
She paused, her tone soft and steady: “Father never speaks carelessly when it comes to the imperial examinations. Since he said that, Husband should be confident.”
“Please relax. Wait a little longer; good news will come on its own.”
Hearing this, Madam Zhou’s anxious expression eased considerably.
She had deep faith in her daughter-in-law’s abilities, not only because of her competence but also because her father, Shen Zhongcheng, was the acting Minister of Personnel at court, with unmatched learning and judgment.
If her own in-law said Pei Cijing’s skills were sufficient, then they must truly be.
Madam Zhou nodded, patted Shen Ninghuan’s hand, and softened her tone: “Ninghuan, you really know how to speak. Unlike that brat—he makes you so mad he won’t even apologize.”
Pei Cijing, sitting nearby, twitched the corner of his mouth and silently kept quiet.
He muttered to himself: Mother, if you’re going to praise Wife, go ahead, but do you have to step on me while you’re at it?
He stole a glance at Shen Ninghuan, who happened to look back at him. Their eyes met, and Shen Ninghuan curved her lips slightly, a smile hinting at a mix of helplessness, affection, and a silent “You brought this on yourself.”
Pei Cijing looked away.
Oh well.
In his mother’s eyes, his status as her son had long fallen behind that of his wife.
Madam Zhou sat back down.
She scanned the main hall and realized she seemed to be the only one who couldn’t stay calm.
Her precious son was still half-asleep, leaning back in his chair, his eyelids drooping again—whether truly tired or just resting his eyes.
Pei Fugui sat beside her, slowly sipping tea with an unhurried air, his expression and posture so relaxed they might as well have been enjoying flowers in a backyard garden, without a trace of tension.
Madam Zhou shot him a glare. Sensing her gaze, Pei Fugui looked up and smiled at her, a smile with a touch of flattery, then lowered his head and resumed drinking his tea.
Madam Zhou ignored him.
Her gaze shifted to her father, Zhou Youfu, and her third brother, Zhou Dahe.
The Old Master was chatting in low tones with his brother-in-law, both with smiles on their faces, looking more like they were waiting for New Year’s well-wishers than exam results.
Madam Zhou thought to herself: Is Father that confident? Or does he have no idea how hard the imperial exams are?
She remembered her father’s recent words: “I’m still waiting to see Cijing’s name on the gold list! The honor of ranking high!”
The tone, the demeanor—so certain it was as if he had already seen the list.
Madam Zhou sighed.
Oh well. It seemed she was the only one on edge. It felt like everyone else in the family was composed and unruffled. She closed her mouth, sat back down in her chair, and forced herself to wait patiently.
No sooner had her bottom touched the chair than the cushion hadn’t even warmed up when—
“Young Master! Young Master! He passed! He passed!”
Yuanbao’s voice came from outside the courtyard, growing louder as he approached, breathless from running, bursting with uncontrollable joy.
The voice was sharp and excited, like scissors cutting through the stillness of the main hall.
Pei Cijing opened his eyes.
Madam Zhou shot to her feet.
Pei Fugui set down his teacup.
Zhou Youfu and Zhou Dahe exchanged a glance and stood up in unison.
Everyone’s gaze turned toward the doorway.
A figure staggered in.
Yuanbao’s clothes were wrinkled, as if crumpled and then unfolded, his topknot tilted to one side with strands of hair falling loose, a red scratch on his face from who knows whose fingernails, and his shoes coated in dust. He looked as battered as if he had just crawled off a battlefield.
But his eyes blazed with brightness, the corners of his mouth stretched to his ears, and he radiated pure, shining joy.
He charged into the main hall, dropped to his knees with a thud, gasping for breath. His voice trembled with excitement. "Young Master! You passed! Sixth place in the metropolitan examination!"
Sixth place in the metropolitan examination.
Those four words landed in the hall like a stone dropped into a deep pool, stirring ripples in every direction.
A moment of silence.
Then—
"Excellent!" Zhou Youfu was the first to speak. The Old Master slapped the armrest of his chair, his voice so loud it startled those nearby. "I knew it! Cijing was sure to pass!"
Zhou Dahe's face beamed with joy. His dark, weathered features couldn’t hide his delight. Nodding firmly, he looked at Pei Cijing with a gaze full of pride and relief.
Pei Fugui showed little overt reaction, save for a smile slightly wider than usual. He picked up his teacup and took a slow, deliberate sip, his demeanor suggesting he’d expected this all along.
Only the fingers gripping the teacup trembled faintly.
Madam Zhou stood there, frozen for a long moment.
Her eyes reddened slowly. She pressed her handkerchief to her mouth, tears welling up but not falling.
Sixth place.
Sixth in the metropolitan examination.
Her son had passed.
Turning to Pei Cijing, her gaze held pride and consolation. Whatever slight resentment she’d felt earlier was long forgotten.
As long as he passed.
He was her good boy!
By now, Pei Cijing was fully awake. Sitting in his chair, the words "Sixth place" hit him like a weight finally lifting—a boulder that had hung over him for so long, now settled safely to the ground.
Sixth in the metropolitan examination.
This rank was better than he’d expected.
He’d only hoped to pass, guessing he’d land somewhere in the middle of the pack, given that he’d been cramming like a last-minute student compared to those who’d studied for years.
Now, with a sixth-place result, he’d not only delivered but exceeded expectations.
A faint curve touched his lips. Inside, he was thrilled, though he kept a composed expression, as if it were all part of the plan.
He turned to look at Shen Ninghuan.
She was standing beside Madam Zhou, one hand supporting the older woman’s arm, the other offering a handkerchief as she comforted her in a gentle voice.
As if sensing his gaze, she tilted her head slightly and met his eyes.
Their gazes locked.
Shen Ninghuan gave him a soft smile—one filled with joy, pride, and a certainty that seemed to say, "I knew you could do it."
A warmth spread through Pei Cijing’s heart.
He winked at her, his eyes spelling out a message—
Wife, I didn’t let you down, did I?
Shen Ninghuan read the look. The corners of her mouth lifted a little more—a faint arc sweeter than the spring sun.
Pei Cijing pulled his gaze away and looked down at Yuanbao, still kneeling and panting. He spoke with a hint of amusement in his voice: "Yuanbao, you’ve worked hard. Get up. Go to the accounting office and claim a gold ingot. You were the first to see my rank, so you deserve to share in the good fortune."
Yuanbao’s eyes lit up. He’d known his Young Master wouldn’t disappoint him. Kowtowing once, he scrambled to his feet, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you, Young Master! Thank you, Young Master!"
As he backed out of the hall, he turned at the door to add, "Young Master, I think your ranking is still too low. The top spot is where you belong!"
With that, he bolted off, leaving a room full of laughter behind.
Pei Cijing shook his head, smiling.
He rose, straightened his robes, and walked over to Madam Zhou. With all seriousness, he bowed deeply.
"Mother, your son didn’t disappoint you, did he?"
Madam Zhou looked up at him—fine-featured, already a head taller than her. At last, tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks.
She reached out and gently punched his shoulder.
"Brat!"
Her voice was thick, but it carried a laugh.
