After the lively festivities of the Qionglin Banquet had quieted down, a series of tedious formalities followed for several consecutive days.
Thanking the benefactors, changing attire, paying respects to teachers, and honoring the seat master...
Going through this whole process, Pei Cijing felt utterly drained. He had to bow to one official after another, smile from dawn till dusk, and by the time he returned home, even his cheeks ached from all the forced grins.
Fortunately, despite the cumbersome procedures,
there were rewards to be gained.
After all, once he completed these steps, he officially received his appointment — Pei Cijing was now a bona fide civil servant of the Great Qian Dynasty.
A seventh-rank official!
An editor at the Hanlin Academy!
Though the rank was modest, it was a prestigious post. The Hanlin Academy was known as the "place to groom future prime ministers." Many top ministers and chancellors had climbed the ranks step by step from here.
Not every Hanlin scholar could reach those heights,
but at the very least,
the door was open, and the path was laid out.
How far he could go depended entirely on his own fate and opportunities.
This day marked Pei Cijing’s first time reporting for duty at the Hanlin Academy.
At dawn’s first light,
Pei Cijing was already awake but kept his eyes half-closed, not getting up immediately—not because he wanted to linger in bed, but because he was waiting for his wife’s special wake-up service.
Shen Ninghuan had risen even earlier.
She sat at the edge of the bed,
holding the neatly folded green official robe in her hands, giving it one last careful inspection.
The collar, cuffs, front lapel, and belt—every detail was scrutinized to ensure there wasn’t a single wrinkle or loose thread. Only when satisfied did she nod approvingly.
“Husband, it’s time to get up,” she said softly, her tone gentle yet carrying an unmistakable firmness. “Today is your first day on duty—you can’t be late.”
Pei Cijing mumbled a vague response with his eyes still closed.
But his body didn’t move.
Seeing this, Shen Ninghuan couldn’t help but curve her lips into a smile and reached out to pinch his nose playfully. “Get up quickly. If you keep dawdling, I’ll get mad.”
Only then did Pei Cijing pretend to be reluctant and open his eyes. The first thing he saw was his wife’s delicate face.
The morning light bathed her features, making her clear eyes shine exceptionally bright. Within them was warmth, anticipation, and a carefully concealed pride.
He grinned, turned over, and sat up.
“Alright, alright, the lady has spoken—I dare not disobey.”
Shen Ninghuan rolled her eyes at him and handed over the official robe without pausing in her chatter. “Put it on quickly. Don’t dawdle. It’s your first day—better to leave early and take your time on the road, so you won’t be rushed.”
Pei Cijing took the robe.
Unfolded it.
It was a green, round-collared gown, embroidered with an egret pattern on the badge. The stitching was fine and lifelike, and the fabric was top-quality Hangluo silk—stiff yet soft to the touch.
This was the court regulation.
Seventh-rank civil officials wore green robes with a xian badge.
Pei Cijing dressed carefully, and Shen Ninghuan moved behind him to straighten the collar, tighten the belt, and adjust his black gauze hat with gentle, practiced hands.
She stepped back two paces, appraising him from head to toe. Satisfaction gleamed in her eyes. Then she stepped forward to straighten his belt once more before finally nodding.
“All set.”
Pei Cijing stood in front of the bronze mirror, turning his body from side to side, scrutinizing the young man in the reflection—dressed in official robes, his features clear and refined.
A green robe topped with a black official’s hat, a silver belt cinching his waist.
Compared to his usual casual clothes, this outfit added a touch of solemnity and took away some of his usual laziness.
He gave himself a thorough once-over and nodded in satisfaction, but his mouth was relentless: “Green robes don’t suit me very well. I still think purple or scarlet robes are more fitting—now that’s truly impressive.”
Shen Ninghuan couldn’t help but smile, covering her lips at his teasing.
In the Great Qian dynasty’s official dress code, first to fourth rank officials wore scarlet robes, fifth to seventh rank wore blue, eighth and ninth rank wore green, while purple robes were reserved for those granted by the emperor himself. Though Pei Cijing’s blue official robe lacked the grandeur of the scarlet robes worn by high-ranking ministers, it carried its own air of upright dignity.
For someone newly entering the officialdom, this was already quite respectable.
But when it came to Pei Cijing’s teasing remarks,
she chose not to argue.
Instead, she stepped forward and straightened the brim of his hat.
Her tone was indulgent, tinged with playfulness: “Yes, yes, yes, husband, you’re terribly wronged in that green robe. I’ll just wait patiently for the day you wear the purple one.”
Pei Cijing chuckled softly, took her hand, and squeezed it firmly. “Don’t worry, my lady. You won’t have to wait long.”
Though he spoke lightly, he knew well how many ranks stood between seventh and third grade—and how many years of experience and achievements it would take to climb that ladder.
In the official world,
patience was everything.
You had to endure—endure the years, the examinations, the networking, the opportunities.
Exams came every three years.
Only those who excelled could be promoted.
Step by step, no rushing, no skipping—unless one accomplished a great feat or caught the eye of the higher-ups for special promotion, the only way forward was steady, methodical progress.
Still,
Pei Cijing wasn’t in a hurry.
He was only nineteen—there was plenty of time.
And though seventh rank wasn’t high, at least he had an official title now. Walking out, he could hold his head a little higher. Besides, his wife was a sixth-rank titled lady, one rank above him. Standing beside her, he might still be a step lower, but he was no longer just a mere “accessory.”
Thinking of this,
a smile tugged at the corners of Pei Cijing’s mouth.
“Yeah!”
Shen Ninghuan saw him standing there grinning foolishly and just shook her head with a smile. She picked up the official box filled with documents and writing tools and handed it to him.
“All right, time to go. Don’t keep your colleagues waiting.”
Pei Cijing took the box, responded with a nod, bent down, and lightly kissed his wife’s forehead before striding out.
At the doorway, he turned back and winked at her. “My lady, wait for me to come back for dinner!”
Shen Ninghuan smiled gently. “I will.”
The carriage was already waiting at the door.
Pei Cijing jumped in, the curtain was drawn, and the carriage rumbled out of the alley, merging into the bustling street filled with carts and pedestrians.
The Hanlin Academy was located in the southeast corner of the Imperial City, not far from the marquis’s residence. The ride took about fifteen minutes.
Leaning against the carriage wall, Pei Cijing closed his eyes to rest, but his mind was quietly running through the tasks ahead.
Registering, paying respects to his superiors, getting acquainted with colleagues, learning the rules of the office…
The day before.
There would likely be little official business—mainly just a process of “getting acquainted with the place.”
By the time the carriage stopped in front of the Hanlin Academy, the sky had already brightened.
Pei Cijing jumped down, lifting his gaze to the courtyard with its gray brick walls and black tiled roof, the plaque above the gate proudly bearing the inscription “Hanlin Academy.”
That plaque was personally penned by the founding emperor, its brushstrokes vigorous and majestic. Though weathered by more than a century of wind and sun, its ink had faded slightly, yet the imposing dignity remained undiminished.
Hanlin Academy.
This would be his workplace from now on.
Pei Cijing took a deep breath, straightened his attire, and stepped toward the gate.
Before he reached the entrance, he spotted two figures standing beneath the porch—one slender and tall, the other burly and square-shouldered. They were none other than the top scholar Liu Zhixing and the second-ranked Chen Wangbei.
The three exchanged glances and simultaneously cupped their hands in greeting.
“Brother Liu, Brother Chen, good morning.”
“Brother Pei, good morning.”
“You’ve come at just the right time, Brother Pei. Let’s enter together.”
Side by side, the three walked into the Hanlin Academy.
Passing under the porch and along a path paved with blue stones, they arrived at the front courtyard.
Several ancient locust trees grew within, their gnarled branches strong and sturdy. New shoots had already sprouted—tender and green—swaying gently in the morning light.
Straight ahead stood a spacious hall, guarded at its entrance by a refined-looking civil official in his thirties. He was tall and slender, with delicate features and three strands of long beard. His blue official robe bore an embroidered egret badge, marking a rank several levels above theirs.
Seeing the trio approach, a faint smile appeared on his face. He stepped forward, cupping his hands in salute.
“Are you the three top scholars from this imperial examination? I am Lin Yi, a Hanlin Academy scholar-reader, sent by the head scholar to await you.”
Pei Cijing and the others promptly returned the salute.
“Your humble servant Liu Zhixing, greetings, Lord Lin.”
“Your humble servant Chen Wangbei, greetings, Lord Lin.”
“Your humble servant Pei Cijing, greetings, Lord Lin.”
All three bowed deeply, their manners respectful and proper.
Lin Yi’s gaze swept over them.
It lingered only briefly on Liu Zhixing and Chen Wangbei—his attitude was neutral, neither warm nor cold, just the right measure of official courtesy.
After all, graduates of the top rank were common here in the Hanlin Academy. Even the champion scholar was nothing extraordinary.
Isn’t everyone like that?
Whether one could rise to prominence depended on the individual. Spending a lifetime at Hanlin only to die as an obscure scholar-reader was not unheard of. These two did not merit special attention.
But when his eyes fell on Pei Cijing,
they hesitated slightly.
A different light flickered in his eyes.
“Editor Pei,” he said, his tone warmer, “there’s no need to be so formal. I have a history with Minister Shen. When I first entered the Hanlin Academy, it was Minister Shen who took me under his wing.”
“Those years, Minister Shen took great care of me. I have never forgotten that kindness.”
He paused, then his gaze softened as he looked at Pei Cijing’s face. His voice became even gentler: “If you don’t mind, just call me Brother Lin. There’s no need to address me as ‘Lord Lin’—that only creates distance between us.”
At these words, both Liu Zhixing and Chen Wangbei couldn’t help but glance subtly at Pei Cijing, but Pei Cijing’s mind was as clear as a mirror.
Lin Yi was being warm toward him.
It was because of Shen Zhongcheng.
In official circles, exchanging favors and courtesies was commonplace. Shen Zhongcheng had once mentored Lin Yi, and Lin Yi remembered this kindness. Now, seeing Shen Zhongcheng’s son-in-law, it was only natural for him to offer a bit more care.
But Pei Cijing couldn’t just accept this favor without reservation.
Not because he was ungrateful, but because it wasn’t appropriate.
If he climbed the ladder by riding on his father-in-law’s coattails and immediately called him “Brother Lin,” what would others think? What would Liu Zhixing and Chen Wangbei think? What about the other colleagues at the Hanlin Academy?
A newcomer, just arrived.
On his very first day reporting for duty.
If he presumptuously relied on his father-in-law’s connections to address him so familiarly, people would only say he was frivolous, rude, and lacking in discretion.
In the official world,
first impressions mattered immensely.
He did not want to leave such an impression. So Pei Cijing cupped his hands politely, speaking sincerely but with proper restraint: “Lord Lin’s kindness is deeply appreciated, but—”
He paused, his tone growing even more earnest: “As a newcomer to the Hanlin Academy, I know very little and can do little. I ought to be cautious and focus on my duties. If I let personal matters interfere with official business and show undue closeness to Lord Lin, others will notice and inevitably gossip, which would only make things difficult for you.”
“Therefore, I believe it is more appropriate to address you as ‘Lord Lin.’ I hope you can understand.”
Having said this, he bowed respectfully once more.
Lin Yi looked at him, and the warmth in his eyes gradually faded, replaced by genuine admiration from the bottom of his heart.
This young man had passed the imperial exam as the third-ranked candidate at such a young age, yet there wasn’t a trace of arrogance. He remained calm in the face of challenges, acted with precision, and grasped the proper measure perfectly.
Impressive!
His words just now were both a test and a gesture of goodwill.
The test was to gauge Pei Cijing’s character—whether he was a reckless scion who arrogantly relied on his father-in-law’s influence, or a steady, sensible person who understood propriety.
This would determine how Lin Yi treated Pei Cijing.
After all, Shen Zhongcheng was now the Minister of Personnel, having officially taken the position just days ago. Maintaining a good relationship with his son-in-law was all benefit and no harm.
But that didn’t mean Lin Yi was willing to be dragged down by someone who didn’t know their place.
Pei Cijing’s response exceeded his expectations.
Neither servile nor arrogant, he accepted the kindness without climbing over it, and expressed himself with elegance, allowing both sides to save face.
Such clarity and sense of propriety were rare.
Lin Yi’s gaze grew warmer with admiration. He smiled slightly and spoke with added sincerity: “Very well, I’ll agree to your preference. However—”
He paused, his tone softening: “If you encounter anything you don’t understand or can’t handle at the Hanlin Academy, feel free to come to me. No need to be polite or hold back.”
“Though we need not address each other as brothers, it is only natural to offer each other a little more care.”
Pei Cijing felt a warmth in his heart and cupped his hands in thanks: “Thank you, Lord Lin. Should I make any missteps, I will certainly seek your guidance.”
Lin Yi nodded with satisfaction, then turned around and smiled warmly at Liu Zhixing and Chen Wangbei, his tone more courteous than before. “The three of you, please follow me. I’ll show you around the Hanlin Academy and help you get acquainted with the place.”
As he walked, he introduced the various departments within the Hanlin Academy.
“The Academy is divided into several sections: the Left and Right Chunfang, the National History Office, the Records Office, the Editorial Department, and others, each with its own responsibilities. Since you’re new, you’ll be temporarily assigned to the Editorial Department to familiarize yourselves with official duties. Later, based on each of your specialties and performances, your roles will be adjusted accordingly.”
“The chief scholar in charge of the Academy is not here today, but I’ll arrange for you to meet him another day. The director of the Editorial Department is a man surnamed Wang—he’s kind and easygoing, so there’s no need to be nervous.”
“As for the Academy’s rules, attendance is taken sharply at the third quarter of the Mao hour each day. Meals are served at noon, and duties end at the third quarter of the Shen hour. The last two days of each ten-day period are rest days. Aside from these, unless there’s a special circumstance, absences without reason are not allowed.”
He spoke as he led the three through a moon gate into a quiet courtyard.
Inside, a few slender bamboo stalks stood tall and graceful, their leaves rustling softly in the breeze, lending an air of refined elegance. Under the covered walkway, several pots of orchids released a subtle fragrance, refreshing and soothing.
Lin Yi pushed open a door and stepped aside to let the three enter.
“This will be your shared duty room.”
Pei Cijing stepped over the threshold and glanced around.
The room was modest in size but meticulously tidy.
Three desks were arranged side by side, each neatly equipped with brush, ink, paper, and inkstone.
Against the wall stood a bookshelf holding several stacks of official documents and classics. On the windowsill sat a pot of asparagus fern, its delicate leaves glowing faintly green in the sunlight.
Each of the three chose a spot quietly.
Silence filled the room; no one spoke.
Lin Yi observed the scene and gave a slight nod, then reminded them politely, “If there’s anything you don’t understand, just ask Director Wang,” before turning and leaving.
