Just as Liu Weiyi was about to acknowledge the decree, a soft, unctuous voice interjected, “Your Majesty, there are a few lines here that I find quite interesting…”
It was none other than Lan Xi, the chief eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial, who was attending the Emperor. Originally from Fujian, Lan Xi had migrated to the capital with refugees at the age of fifteen. With no means of survival, he had been forced to become a eunuch.
People from Fujian are known for their strong ties to their homeland. Although Lan Xi had amassed considerable wealth through corruption and bribery, he still sent some of it back to his native land every year, funding charity projects like community temples and soup kitchens, earning the gratitude of many locals.
Upon hearing that the candidate was from Fujian, Lan Xi felt a twinge of partiality. When he saw the name “Su Yan, styled Qinghe” on the paper, his mind raced: Su Qinghe… that name sounds familiar. Could he be the only son of Su Keran, the Senior Provincial Government official of Fuzhou? Their families had some old connections. Since they were from the same hometown, he felt compelled to lend a hand.
Emperor Jinglong had always held a certain fondness and trust for this eunuch, so he took the paper back upon hearing his words. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that a few of the sentences were indeed elegant and powerful, with a philosophical depth that could awaken the reader’s mind. The Emperor nodded slightly and remarked, “‘Every generation produces talents, each reigning for a few hundred years’—this is quite a bold statement…
‘Realizing that clouds transform into rain not necessarily in the high heavens, but within the space of a hundred feet, forming nourishing drops’—these lines are profound, using metaphor to convey truth, embodying the principle of moderation. Hmm, this person does have some talent, but he is too impulsive and unconventional. I fear he is not material for high office.”
If Emperor Jinglong knew that the lines he admired most were actually the parts of Su Yan’s essay where he “quoted famous sayings,” one wonders how he would have reacted.
Sensing an opportunity, Lan Xi quickly added, “Your Majesty, though I am only marginally literate, I have heard rumors that Su Yan is a prodigy. At six, he could compose poetry, at seven, he had memorized the Four Books and Five Classics, and by ten, he was writing beautifully crafted essays. How could someone like that be ignorant of the eight-part essay? It is very likely that he is a talented individual who feared his brilliance might go unnoticed, so he chose to stand out by doing something unconventional to catch Your Majesty’s eye. Though his actions were inappropriate, considering his youth, I believe it would be unwise to stifle such a promising talent.”
Lan Xi’s tale of Su Yan being a prodigy wasn’t entirely baseless. Su Yan did have some reputation in Fujian, although the talent that once filled his mind had since been replaced with mere pretense.
Emperor Jinglong pondered for a moment, finding some merit in Lan Xi’s argument, and nodded. “Young people can be impetuous, reckless, and overly confident in their talents. They need to be tempered before they can take on great responsibilities.”
Lan Xi eagerly followed up, “Your Majesty is indeed wise and discerning, a true judge of talent.”
“Let him be temporarily admitted as a tribute student, and I will personally examine him during the final imperial examination to see if he lives up to his reputation,” the Emperor decided, shaking the paper before standing up. “I need to return to the palace and check on the Crown Prince. I leave the rest to you scholars. Do not let minor matters delay the selection of talented individuals for the spring examination.”
Lan Xi trailed behind, glancing smugly at Liu Weiyi before leaving.
Liu Weiyi fumed internally: I’ve endured enough, but this eunuch has pushed me too far!
“Possessing talent but fearing it would go unnoticed”—what does that imply? It’s a clear jab at us Hanlin Academy scholars, suggesting we aren’t good judges of talent. He’s brazenly slandering us to the Emperor’s face, and the Emperor listens to his every word. Over time, this will undoubtedly cause the Emperor to become distrustful of the civil officials.
If these power-hungry eunuchs can influence even the Emperor’s decrees, they will surely become a grave threat to the court! I must visit Minister of Personnel and Grand Secretary Li Chengfeng immediately and rally the civil officials to plot against these treacherous eunuchs before they seize complete control!
As he seethed, he was unaware that Lan Xi harbored similar thoughts: These pedantic scholars are always looking down on me, chattering away like annoying birds both in court and out, driving people crazy with their incessant prattle.
“And those censorial officials, they even dare to impeach and mock the Emperor, causing His Majesty to be anxious and uneasy. One day, I’ll round them all up, pluck their wings, and toss them into a pot to be boiled. Let’s see who still dares to challenge me then.”
His support for Su Yan wasn’t just out of shared hometown ties; he had a different agenda. If he could win Su Yan over, bringing him into the civil service ranks as a planted ally, it could be a strategic move.
As for Su Yan, who had narrowly escaped a great disaster just moments ago, he had no idea that he was becoming yet another flashpoint in the escalating power struggle between the civil officials and the eunuchs.
At that moment, he was happily heading back to Rouge Alley, eager to hear a performance of “Tuo Tan Lang” by the famous courtesan Ruan Hongjiao.
***
Evening had just fallen, and the city lights were beginning to glow. The city temple fair was bustling with people.
The street, about three miles long, was packed with vendors on both sides, their goods arrayed in a dazzling display, making the atmosphere lively. Among the crowd were many foreign merchants with blue eyes and fragrant pilgrims from overseas, exuding an air of wealth as they engaged in high-spirited discussions.
Su Yan walked with his hands behind his back, strolling along the street with three or five fellow examinees. He found their endless chatter about classical texts incredibly dull, so he nodded along while his eyes roved over the curious trinkets displayed at the stalls.
The prevailing atmosphere of the dynasty was open and relaxed, with many women dressed in bright moonlight skirts and water field blouses, adorned with fitted bijia jackets, out enjoying the temple fair. The streets were full of bobbing phoenix hairpins and gracefully swaying lotus shoes, adding to the lively scene.
Su Yan’s mischievous eyes were darting around, taking in the sight of the pretty girls, causing him to lag behind.
Suddenly, someone grabbed his hands. Startled, he turned around to see his fellow examinee from the same hometown, Huang Zhi, holding his hands in an unusually solemn manner, his pale face flushed and his nostrils slightly flaring.
Su Yan was puzzled. They were old classmates, after all, so what was there to be so worked up about? He asked, “Brother Yutang, what’s the matter?”
Huang Zhi moved his lips a few times before whispering, “In this Spring Examination, Brother Qinghe, your great talent will surely earn you a place on the list.”
Su Yan chuckled dryly, “Oh, not at all. I’m just a shallow scholar, and I fear my name will be far down the list. With tens of thousands of talented examinees, but only 300 candidates selected as tribute students, it’s like an army of thousands crossing a single-log bridge. I know that bridge is too narrow to cross, and I’m ready to pack up and head back to Fujian.”
Huang Zhi’s eyes lit up, and he gripped Su Yan’s hand even tighter, blurting out, “I was thinking the same. The journey home is long, and we could look out for each other along the way. Brother Qinghe, if you don’t mind, why don’t we… become sworn brothers?”
Su Yan was so startled that he nearly jumped back, instinctively pulling his hand away.
Don’t think that “sworn brothers” means something as simple as becoming swoen brothers.
In this dynasty, the practice of male companionship was quite prevalent. Many scholars kept boy favorites or theatrical performers, and it was not uncommon for two men to develop deep mutual affection. In Fujian and Yue regions, this custom was particularly strong and had a unique flavor:
If two men found themselves in mutual affection, they would become sworn brothers, living together like a married couple, with parental approval as if they were a son-in-law. The community would also recognize and celebrate the relationship. As they grew older and married women, the sworn brother would often cover wedding expenses and later provide support. Some even maintained a lifelong bond.
Although Su Yan was familiar with old rural customs, he had never entertained such thoughts. He was still deeply in love with delicate beauties, so why bother with fake or false pretenses? As he put it, “The story of Brokeback Mountain is touching, no doubt, but as a straight man, that’s just not my thing.”
He quickly withdrew his hand, contemplating how to politely refuse without hurting his classmate’s sensitive feelings. Just then, he caught sight of a figure in the corner of his eye, seizing the opportunity as if granted a pardon. “Hey, you over there—the one I accidentally bumped into the other day! I feel guilty about my rudeness and came to apologize today.”
He then turned back to Huang Zhi with an awkward smile, “Brother Yutang, sorry, but I have some personal business to attend to. Let’s talk another time, alright?”
Watching Huang Zhi’s crestfallen figure, Su Yan exhaled in relief and quickly walked away, resolving to keep his distance in the future to avoid giving Huang Zhi any opportunity to “talk another time.”
But just then, he heard a rough young voice behind him shout, “You, stop right there!”
Su Yan scratched his head, sighed at the misfortune of the encounter, and reluctantly turned around.
It was the same arrogant little young master who had looked down on him before. He was still in his military uniform, now with a lamb-fat white jade belt replacing the silk sash around his waist, making him appear even more distinguished and handsome. However, the haughty and infuriating expression on his face made Su Yan want to kick him square in the nose.
The young master was also scrutinizing him.
On that previous day, Su Yan had been running so hard he was out of breath, and the young man was too dizzy from a fall to get a good look at the tall, slender scholar’s appearance.
Now, taking a closer look, he saw Su Yan dressed in a stone-blue satin robe with wide sleeves trimmed in black, a green silk sash around his waist, and a delicate jade pendant in the shape of a lotus leaf hanging from his front. It gave him an air of elegance, like a willow swaying in the breeze, or clouds drifting in the clear sky.
This demeanor should have evoked the image of a refined gentleman, as described in the Book of Odes: “A fine gentleman, so polished and flawless.” But the pair of slightly narrowed phoenix eyes under the lamplight gleamed with a sly, almost roguish charm, as if the whole gentlemanly act was just a facade.
Anger stirred within the young man, and he let out a heavy snort. “Weren’t you just saying you wanted to apologize to me? Then why did you run?”
Su Yan sighed, “Would it make a difference if I stayed? Every time we meet, you seem ready to demand another apology. Even if I were guilty of every possible offense, I couldn’t possibly have enough to apologize for.”
The young master’s lips curled slightly, thinking this guy was kind of amusing, and his anger subsided a bit. After a pause, he asked, “Earlier, you said that the civil service examination is like a thousand armies crossing a single-log bridge?”
Su Yan, puzzled, replied, “Yes, that’s right,” thinking that this analogy was quite common, just like how people talk about the national college entrance exam every year.
The young man nodded, “It’s a very apt metaphor.” He then gave Su Yan a somewhat wicked look, “With so many scholars in the country fighting to cross that bridge, you look like a bag of bones—do you really think you can make it without getting knocked off?”
Su Yan chuckled dismissively, “Not at all. Why should I fight for a place?”
The young master raised an eyebrow, “You don’t want to become an official?”
“What’s so good about being an official? If you’re a civil servant, you’re stuck writing reports about trivial matters, waking up early, and working late just to stand at court. If you’re a military officer, it’s all about battles and bloodshed—one goes on the field, and another falls.”
Su Yan, getting into the flow of his thoughts, started gesticulating wildly as he continued his rant, “If you’re a low-ranking official, you have to bow and scrape to your superiors, offering gifts. If you’re high-ranking, you have to watch out for stepping on the emperor’s toes and dying young. Honest officials have to pinch pennies because their purses are empty, while corrupt officials live in constant fear of getting their heads chopped off.”
The young master’s eyebrows arched higher and higher until he couldn’t help but interrupt, “So, by your reasoning, no official position is worth having? If not an official, what do you want to be?”
Su Yan grinned, his eyes curving into crescents as if a spring brook was about to spill over. “Me? I just want to be a frivolous playboy, a dandy. I’ll go out with a pack of lackeys, strut around on horseback, race dogs, fight cocks, and shoot birds. And when I’m bored, I’ll flirt with respectable women. Now, wouldn’t that be a carefree and delightful life?”
The young master was stunned. He pointed a trembling finger at Su Yan, his voice shaking with anger, “You… you good-for-nothing…”
Su Yan burst into laughter, “I was just joking! And you actually took me seriously.”
He clapped the young master on the shoulder in a carefree manner. “Kid, we’ve known each other for a while, so let’s call it fate. I’ll be heading back home in a few days, and after that, we’ll be miles apart, probably never to meet again. Here, take this as a memento. Consider it my apology.” With that, he turned and walked away, hands behind his back, moving with a breezy nonchalance.
The young master stared at his departing figure for a long moment, then looked down at the item in his hand. It was a silver pocket watch, with an enamel surface inlaid with a Western oil painting. The painting depicted a voluptuous foreign woman, half-naked, with her full, pale breasts exposed, holding a naked baby boy in her arms. His face flushed slightly as he cursed under his breath at the indecency. He was about to toss it away, but after thinking it over, he felt a bit reluctant and finally tucked it into his pocket.
He turned to give an order, “Cheng Sheng.”
A figure slid to his side, bowing respectfully, “At your service, young master.”
“How’s the matter I asked you to handle last time?”
Cheng Sheng’s face beamed with a fawning smile, “Your orders were carried out without a hitch, everything was done perfectly, without a trace.”
A shadow flickered across the young master’s face as he ground his teeth, “Even if he doesn’t pass the imperial exams, I’ll find a way to get him into the court. Hmph, you don’t want to be an official? Well, I’ll make sure you become one, let’s see where you can run off to for your carefree life!”
***
“What? I passed the exam?” Su Yan’s jaw went slack, and a piece of crispy roast goose fell from his chopsticks onto the table.
This was completely unexpected. That pseudo-classical essay he had written, which even made him sweat with embarrassment by the end, actually caught the examiners’ eye? He actually passed the provincial exam?
Su Yan stood there, dumbfounded, thinking, could the person grading these papers also be… someone who transmigrated?
The servant who brought the good news was all smiles, bowing repeatedly as he said, “Congratulations, young master! You’re now a tribute student. After the palace examination next month, you’ll be a jinshi*, your name will be on the honor roll!”
* 进士successful candidate in the highest imperial civil service examination palace graduate
Still in a daze, Su Yan absentmindedly handed the servant a handful of copper coins to dismiss him, then started pacing around the room to gather his thoughts.
The palace examination, hosted by the emperor himself, surrounded by esteemed scholars—each one like a gleaming mirror ready to expose any flaws. His little tricks and shallow knowledge would surely be revealed for what they were.
Making a fool of himself would be bad enough, but what if he angered the emperor and got dragged out to be executed at the Meridian Gate? Who could he appeal to then?
The more Su Yan thought about it, the more sorrowful he became. He lamented his short life—just over twenty years. In his previous life, he had finally secured a decent job and was in a steady relationship, only to be killed by a potted plant falling from a fifteenth-floor balcony during a typhoon, leaving him disfigured… And now, after just half a year in this new life, he was about to face death again. He had hoped for a life with three wives and four concubines, with children and grandchildren aplenty, living it up like a great lord!
After pacing for what seemed like half an hour without finding a solution, he suddenly stomped his foot and made up his mind: “D*mn it! It’s not like I haven’t died before. At worst, I’ll be a ghost again, drifting back to the underworld, drink another bowl of Grandma Meng’s soup, and start all over. What’s there to be afraid of?”
With this thought, his heart lightened. Su Yan calmly sat back down at the table and resumed drinking his alcohol.
