Chapter Six: Suddenly, Like a Spring Breeze Overnight

The examination paper was a miscellany of subjects—Confucian classics, military strategy, state policy. Even medicine and agriculture, along with animal husbandry, were included. Even Li Fu found himself pausing from time to time, contemplating each question with care.

Time slipped by unnoticed until the sound of a bell rang out, and the incense stick placed beside the desks had burned to its end, signifying the close of the first round. With the other examinees, Li Fu exited the Dali Temple and, following the instructions of the Supervisory Office, proceeded to the square before the temple to await the announcement of the results.

Most candidates gathered in small clusters, comparing answers, some beating their breasts in regret over mistakes, others lamenting their misfortune. A sense of confusion filled most eyes, and now and then, voices rose to decry the difficulty of the questions.

Li Fu searched the crowd for quite a while, but could not find Yang Zixu. He wondered whether Yang was still inside or hidden among the throng.

“What are you craning your neck for, young lady?” A lazy voice called out from behind.

Li Fu turned to see Yang Zixu’s handsome features come into focus. Yet there was a mischievous, almost flirtatious glint in his eyes…

Instinctively, Li Fu took a step back. Yang Zixu’s gaze was frankly too much…

“What’s the meaning of this? Why are you backing away from me?” Yang Zixu asked, baffled.

“Is there anything in your head besides young ladies? You are, after all, the only son of the Divine General’s Mansion,” Li Fu replied with a pursed smile.

“Are you insulting me?” A hint of irritation flashed in Yang Zixu’s eyes. “You ungrateful wretch, Li Fu! Last night I took you out for fun, and today you turn on me? Insult me, will you? Looks like you want a beating!”

He chased after Li Fu as he spoke.

“If you mean that big black dog from last night, it was certainly entertaining. I won’t forget it…”

“We agreed never to mention that again!”

The two youths frolicked in the square, utterly unconcerned about the results of the first round.

Not far from Dali Temple, in a teahouse, Li Fu and Yang Zixu sat by the window, gazing out at the examinees on the square.

The teahouse had a superb location, situated on Chengtian Avenue; to the east was Dali Temple, to the west the Secretariat. From here, half the inner city was visible, and even the distant royal gardens could be admired. Naturally, the prices matched the view—a pot of tea and a few plates of snacks cost three taels of silver.

“How many questions did you get right?” Yang Zixu asked, curiosity piqued. He had been impressed by Li Fu’s insight, who had deduced the military’s “war feeds war” strategy from clues before and after the Western Frontier Victory. Li Fu’s perception far surpassed that of students from the Eastern Capital’s prestigious academies.

“There were a few I wasn’t sure about. For instance, the ‘Five Discourses’ in ‘State Policy’—I only wrote three. As far as I know, ‘State Policy’ is a severely lost text; there’s no record of it in the past hundred years. Earlier dynastic documents mention it in passing, but never specifically refer to the ‘Five Discourses.’ It struck me as odd. The copy I read contained only two or three discourses,” Li Fu said, cracking melon seeds and holding nothing back.

“You—wait, you’ve read ‘State Policy’?” Yang Zixu started, nearly knocking over a plate of pastries. From the way Li Fu spoke, it sounded as if he’d actually read the book. But how could that be?

“Is there something strange about that? The copy I read was only half a volume. You should have had more exposure to such works in the Eastern Capital than I ever did,” Li Fu replied, glancing at Yang Zixu, who was clearly overreacting.

“Are you certain you read ‘State Policy’?” Yang Zixu leaned in, lowering his voice.

“My teacher said it was ‘State Policy’ and asked me to bring it to the capital before I left. Why are you so worked up?” Li Fu frowned, finally realizing Yang Zixu was not joking.

“Shh—keep your voice down. We’ll discuss this later.” Yang Zixu quickly scanned the teahouse. The examination had drawn a crowd of influential nobles from the capital.

“What about the other questions?” Yang Zixu asked after a moment of silence, reassured that no one was paying them any mind.

“I answered most of them, except for the question on the ‘Scripture of the Primordial Seal’ from the Daoist Canon. There are three versions: the original, which is a fragment of only eighty characters; a later, altered version; and the edition revised by Lord Jiuzhu four hundred years ago, which is now the most widely used. The exam didn’t specify which version, so I included them all,” Li Fu replied candidly.

Yang Zixu fell silent for a long while.

After half a cup of tea, he finally spoke. “I thought those few prodigies in the Eastern Capital were monstrous enough. But compared to you, they’re nothing.”

Li Fu rolled his eyes. “Monstrous? You’re the monstrous one.”

...

It was nearly dusk before the results were posted at Dali Temple.

The names of those who had passed the first round were listed. As soon as the notice went up, the square was flooded with candidates hoping to see their names—yet wails and sighs soon filled the air.

This year, the number of failures was staggering. In previous Lantern Festival exams, the first round eliminated sixty or seventy percent, but this year, it was as much as eighty-five percent.

A waiter hurried upstairs to whisper news in Yang Zixu’s ear. Yang nodded and said, “All right, I understand. Go collect your reward.”

“Thank you, Sir Yang!” The waiter beamed.

“Our names are on the list. No need to check ourselves,” Yang Zixu said casually, enjoying his pastry as he spoke to Li Fu. In the strict system of the Lantern Festival exam, there were certain matters one didn’t attend to personally. For instance, the noble households of the Eastern Capital always had servants to bring news from the list, sparing their scholars some trouble.

“So, are you planning to take one subject or both in tomorrow’s examination?” Li Fu asked.

“I’m skipping the civil exam. Too tedious. I’ll take the military one instead—it’s much more interesting. What about you?”

“I plan to sit for both,” Li Fu replied after a moment’s thought, deciding to follow his teacher’s wishes.

“You really are a monster. Most people choose one and abandon the other, but you insist on doing both,” Yang Zixu said, regarding Li Fu with exasperation. “The literary exam is exhausting, and the military trial is in the afternoon. I’ll enjoy watching you try to handle both.”

“It’s manageable,” Li Fu laughed. He recalled his days in Rice Fragrance Village: mornings spent immersed in a roomful of classics, afternoons training with his teacher, who occasionally tossed him from his warm bed into the mountain stream for ‘special experience’ under the night sky. Compared to that, the Lantern Festival exam was nothing—he would rather take both.

“Let’s head back, then. I’d meant to sleep in tomorrow, but I suppose I’ll have to rise early,” Yang Zixu said, wiping his hands and standing.

“Back? Shouldn’t we go to Dali Temple to register for tomorrow’s exam?” Li Fu asked.

“No need. I’ll have someone take care of it. Oh, and for tomorrow’s military exam, you need to submit your weapons to the Dali Temple for safekeeping; you’ll only get them back before the trial. I’ll send someone to fetch them from the inn,” Yang Zixu replied, making sure nothing was overlooked.

Through the teahouse window, they could see a not-too-long queue forming before Dali Temple as candidates registered for the final round. In the square, most of those who had failed were still lingering, unable to accept the outcome.

For every general crowned in glory, countless bones are left to wither—battlefields are merciless, and the road to officialdom is equally cruel.

...

The road home was not as smooth as before. Something had occurred—Chang’an’s streets were unusually crowded. Carriages bearing the insignias of various provinces formed a long, unmoving line. These were not ordinary passenger carriages; in the back, great redwood chests lay exposed, as if delivering gifts to a noble house of the capital. Lifting the curtain, Yang Zixu glanced ahead. The carriages were all headed for a deep red mansion, outside of which Dragon Guard officers kept order.

“All this fuss for the birth of a son? Is such ostentation really necessary?” Yang Zixu muttered, dropping the curtain.

“What is it?” Li Fu, curious, looked out as well. The heavy gates were crowded with people bearing gifts, the scene lively and bustling.

Suddenly, a figure in green appeared in Li Fu’s line of sight—a girl whose eyes shone with crystalline clarity, bright as a sky full of stars. For a moment, Li Fu was transfixed. She noticed and offered him a gentle, crescent-eyed smile, radiating a grace and spirit that took one’s breath away.

Her long, black hair fell softly over her shoulders, lending her a delicate elegance. Sometimes she would idly count her locks, exuding a rare charm. Her small red lips and sun-kissed cheeks complemented each other, and a pair of dimples nestled at each side of her face. At the hint of a smile, they became even more distinct, appearing and vanishing, enchanting as a celestial maiden.

“As if, in a single night, a spring breeze had come and a thousand pear trees blossomed,” Li Fu murmured, utterly enraptured.