Chapter 25

The exam paper in his hands had taken on the weight of a thousand jin. When the calling of names and conferring of degrees for the first class was done, and the zhuangyuan at the head led the other two of the first class together, Zhuo Siheng noticed that this year's second-place, the bangyan, was none other than Peng Shihu, the departmental champion from before.

The tanhua was a scholar he didn't know, who looked a little older than both himself and Peng Shihu.

Then Zhuo Siheng listened carefully: Tong Shipei had done very well too, placing eleventh in the second class, while his cousin was twenty-second in the third class, in the middle of the field for this palace exam.

After each was granted his corresponding degree-status, the emperor bestowed green robes and ivory tablets, and the officials of the Ministry of Rites led everyone to a side hall to change, into dark blue-green robes and belts, holding their audience tablets; then Zhuo Siheng led all the palace-exam scholars in bowing their thanks for the imperial grace, and the Son of Heaven granted the further honor of saddle and mount and a ride down the imperial way.

To enter the gate in commoner's cloth and leave the hall in a green robe — this was the lifelong craving of every scholar; the more so to walk at the head of them all, mounted on an imperial horse with a purple-gold saddle and bridle beneath him, fourteen Imperial Guardsmen each bearing a yellow banner going before as an honor guard to clear the way, and three more hoisting great banners on which the names and native places of the first class hung in order as they went out.

The one at the head, first to ride out the Donghua Gate and on to Zhuque Avenue, was this year's zhuangyuan, Zhuo Siheng.

The streets were already packed with the men and women, old and young, of the capital: the jinshi's parade through the capital after the palace exam was a spectacle nearly second only to the night market of the Lantern Festival, and everyone had to come and join in and have a look — all the more since the Lantern Festival came once a year, but the examinations only every three, and with this year's special circumstances the grace examination had opened, so this marvel had come round two years running, and the people never tired of talking of it. Wealthy families set up screens and colored drapes along the route, partly to add to the joy and the fun, and partly so that the women of the inner quarters could share in the grand occasion and watch, together, the most triumphant procession in the world — the flush of success, the flying hooves.

If a family had one of their own among the parading jinshi, a great house would go further still and set out feasts along the route and scatter coppers about; and rich or poor, whole families, old and young, would come to line the way and lend their own man a show of prestige, sharing together in the glory.

At every street they passed, the crowd buzzed with talk: this year's zhuangyuan was so well-favored, of striking and uncommon bearing! And most important, to have such achievement and ability so young — he was surely the Wenqu Star of literature come down to earth!

Zhuo Siheng hadn't been nervous answering before the hall, hadn't been nervous at the calling of names in the golden hall, hadn't been nervous when the emperor questioned him himself — but riding a tall, big horse and dressed in loose official robes, parading so conspicuously through the streets, he was a bit nervous.

Especially seeing the whole watching crowd all looking at him — there was no feeling stranger than this!

The dynasty kept no curfew and set few constraints on daily life, so the popular temper was simple and open, and at the two supremely glorious events — a general returning victorious and a new zhuangyuan parading the capital — the common women watching by the roadside had a long-standing custom of tossing flowers and streamers. Before Zhuo Siheng had even ridden out of Zhuque Avenue, who knew how many colored flowers and silks had been thrown onto him; he was like a walking piece of green topiary, letting himself be decked out with all the flung flowers and colors — and passing some of the colored curtains set up before the gates of dukes' and marquises' mansions, from behind curtains he couldn't see through a flower-ball or silk streamer tied with a ribbon would suddenly come flying out and land square on his head or in his arms.

How terrifying!

Zhuo Siheng half wished he could go back and beg the emperor to let him sit the exam once more — grinding practice questions was far easier than this.

The parade's endpoint was the Ministry of Rites' assembly hall, also called the Zhuangyuan Bureau, where the Wenxi Banquet would be held: a feast granted by the emperor, with the reigning chief ministers leading the high officials in attendance, and the zhuangyuan invited to the seat of honor.

Zhuo Siheng finally held out all the way to the Ministry of Rites; his back was stiff as he dismounted, and he stood a long while recovering. Tong Shipei, passing behind him, couldn't hold back his laughter at all, and the effort of stifling it made him look like a rooster struggling not to crow.

Zhuo Siheng shot him a glare, quickly handed the reins to a guardsman, and returned to the front rank for the banquet.

The officials who'd called the names before the hall that day were all at the banquet, and Zhuo Siheng was invited to the seat of honor to receive the toasts of the court officials, led by the Grand Councillor Shen Minyao.

Zhuo Siheng guessed that the officials present probably all knew his grandfather and father, so most of their glances toward him held a note of probing and wariness; only many of them didn't show it, masking it instead with calm inquiries and shows of concern.

Shen Minyao, though — he was already sixty, and might well have served in office in the same period as Zhuo Siheng's grandfather, so how could he not know him? Yet not one extra glance came drifting his way; after the toast he talked of something with Bai Cong, Grand Academician of the Hongwen Academy, and only when Zhuo Siheng had received everyone else's toasts in turn did he turn slightly and speak: "Zhuangyuan, rest well these next days. At the next grand court assembly on the first of the month, you are to lead all the jinshi in offering thanks to His Majesty at court, and offices will be conferred that day."

Zhuo Siheng said respectfully, "Many thanks for the reminder, Chancellor Shen."

"On the auspicious day after next you must also pay homage to the Great Sage and Foremost Teacher in the Temple of Literature at the Ministry of Rites' examination compound, and then go to the Lingyan Pavilion to bow reverently to the meritorious officials." Shen Minyao's tone was grave, but his reminders were very detailed. "Last of all you must return to the compound and have your names carved on the stele, and then the rites are complete."

"Your junior is grateful for your guidance."

Shen Minyao seemed about to say more, then held back, and in the end only raised his cup in another toast. Bai Cong, who'd been listening to them all along at the side, stroked his grizzled beard and said with a smile, "This year's zhuangyuan, though also of Shuozhou origin, is versed in letters and knows the rites, and is very cultivated — truly a fine upbringing."

That phrase "also of Shuozhou origin" caught Zhuo Siheng's attention, and he understood at once that Academician Bai's words might refer to young Yongqing; but he felt it wasn't right to press the matter just then, and only smiled politely and with restraint and answered, "My father taught me strictly from childhood and never allowed me to idle over my studies. Your junior wishes only that today's honor might console my parents."

He said nothing about looking out for one another as fellow officials at court in future — which, on the contrary, struck Shen Minyao as proper — and Shen told him a few more things to mind for the coming ceremony of thanks, with Bai Cong offering pointers from the side as well.

Compared with Zhuo Siheng, Peng Shihu seemed rather forlorn: he'd been a single step from the triple first, only to end up beneath another, and even at the Wenxi Banquet he ate somewhat low in spirits, unable to rouse any cheer. But several present knew of how he'd broken up the Constellation Banquet in ill humor that time, and so felt a little gloating.

The tanhua Xu Yanfeng, though, was a talkative sort, pulling in the men to either side and drinking and celebrating away most merrily — looking more like the one who'd taken first place than Zhuo Siheng did. Presently he came over warmly to toast Zhuo Siheng, a smile on his flushed, pleased, faintly tipsy face: "Zhuangyuan, let's have a cup!" He was nearly forty, no longer in the flush of youth, but with a joy like this he too was ruddy-faced, for a moment back in the triumph of his young days.

Seeing Peng Shihu off there keeping to himself, Zhuo Siheng drew Xu Yanfeng along with him over to Peng, and said with a smile, "Why don't the three of us of the first class drink together, and celebrate passing as one?"

Peng Shihu hastily rose. His manner before had always held a certain arrogance, keeping people at arm's length; but this was the zhuangyuan inviting him in person, and by the courtesies he could not refuse, so he said a polite word or two, and even felt himself a little petty and short on magnanimity, and said with some shame, "The zhuangyuan's literary gifts are outstanding; I concede defeat wholeheartedly."

Any words of modest deference just then would have seemed a put-on pose, and Zhuo Siheng had no wish to behave like a small man puffed up with success, showing off to another's face after winning a round, as though he'd never won anything in eight lifetimes. Besides, when Peng Shihu had won at the departmental exam he hadn't flaunted it in Zhuo Siheng's face either — which proved he was only a scholar with a strong enough sense of pride, and no ill will.

Zhuo Siheng said with a smile, "One more day and this grace examination will be over; what comes after is the true new beginning. Let this cup wish that the three of us, and all the jinshi here, may not fail Heaven's grace, and prove ourselves talents fit to serve the realm."

The words were rousing to the heart, enough to make one wish to go and do great things that very instant; Peng Shihu and Xu Yanfeng both drained the fine wine in their cups with a smile, and wished one another a smooth official career to come.

When the banquet ended, by custom the new jinshi lodged that night in the assembly hall. Many were roaring drunk — the Wenxi Banquet was the joy of the happiest moment in a scholar's life, and to be drunk was only normal; once each had gone back to his room and dropped off to sleep, the courtyard and the galleries all fell silent.

It was the end of the second month, when the new willow buds were still tender and yellow, the grass not yet green, and the night wind still cool — and Zhuo Siheng could not sleep at all.

He'd in fact been toasted a full round and looked quite red in the face, yet hadn't the least touch of drunkenness — thanks to years of seasoning on Old Huyan's fiery northern village brew: when the two of them went up the mountain they had to drink to warm themselves against the piercing cold wind, and so he'd built up such a capacity that these mellow, sweet wines couldn't make his head swim or get him drunk at all.

Now, deep in the still of the night, Zhuo Siheng came out of his room, went round the gallery to the garden behind the courtyard, and found a quiet spot to calm the excitement within him.

The truth was he was really very excited.

But after the excitement came a touch of melancholy: he didn't know when he'd be able to bring his sisters and brother to the capital, nor whether his abilities now were enough, really, to look after the whole family well.

Then he crouched, pinched up some crumbled earth from the ground, and made do with earth for incense; just as he meant to bow in offering to his parents, he felt someone tap him from behind.

"Caught you at last! Sneaking off here by yourself..." Tong Shipei's ever-cheerful voice was always infectious, but when he saw what Zhuo Siheng was doing, he suddenly fell silent. "I'm sorry, Yunshan — I didn't know you were..."

"You do know — both my parents are gone." Zhuo Siheng smiled at him, to show he wasn't blaming him. "Today I've missed them terribly: at the calling of names in the hall, then at the banquet, and now more than ever. There's no incense burner or anything here, so I'll just make a simple obeisance... My parents were both free-spirited, open-minded people, and never really cared for empty ceremony; doing this is only a way of settling some of my longing, for my own sake, that's all."

Tong Shipei listened quietly to the end, then knelt down beside him too, and said to the surprised Zhuo Siheng, "In that case, let me borrow your earth-incense, Yunshan, and lay some of my own longing with it for my dead mother and my two elder brothers. And let me pay my respects to your honored father and mother as well, and show the courtesy a junior and close friend owes them."

Deeply moved, Zhuo Siheng said, "Yes! Then let us bow together to the kin we've lost."

This wasn't really according to the rites, but the rites hardly mattered just then.

Zhuo Siheng and Tong Shipei bowed their heads three times, saying nothing aloud — everything spoken only in their hearts; or perhaps it is that true grief is by its nature hard to put into words, and a heavy sorrow can only sink back into the lonely sea of the heart.

That night the two, unable to sleep, talked of many things. For the first time Tong Shipei told anyone of the grief of losing both his elder brothers one after the other, and the bitterness of his father's hair going white in a single night; and Zhuo Siheng, too, had never spoken with anyone outside his own family of the sufferings of the exile in Shuozhou, or of the many hardships along his road of study.

By the time morning came neither felt any drowsiness, and without pause they hurried off with the other new jinshi to the Confucius temple and the Lingyan Pavilion at the Ministry of Rites, then turned back to the Ministry's examination compound.

Last, on the newly carved stele, Zhuo Siheng's name stood at the very top; looking at the inscription, he couldn't help a powerful sense of glory: if this stone stele were discovered a thousand years hence, his name would still be in the most conspicuous place.

These few days at the assembly hall passed very pleasantly, the daily feasting and talk quite relaxed; no wonder Zhuo Yan had said the bond of the same roll ran so deep — living and eating together in one place all these days built up feeling, and it was only natural to come to know a few future colleagues of like mind and taste.

But in fact there was a purpose behind gathering the new jinshi together at the assembly hall these days: it was to keep some of them, before their offices and postings were fixed at the ceremony of thanks, from deploying smooth, all-around maneuvering and working their long sleeves to run about on their own behalf, using personal connections to gain all sorts of advantages.

Yet those with family at court could still make connections on many sides even while the jinshi themselves were shut up in the assembly hall; the intention behind the arrangement was good, but nowadays it had little real effect, and served, if anything, only as a social gathering.

And people like Zhuo Siheng, with no one at court, no power, and nowhere to turn for favors, were the ones the assembly-hall system really wronged.

Still, he had no need to worry, for the postings of the three of the first class were fixed by established precedent.

When the day of the ceremony of thanks came, everyone's slackened nerves drew taut again: today would decide the starting point of each man's first step on his official career, the brand-new beginning of a life in office, and everyone was braced and ready.

Zhuo Siheng put on the green imperially bestowed robe again; he was to lead the jinshi into court to give their thanks, and since this was a grand assembly attended by all the officials of the capital, it was exceedingly solemn, and a rites official of the Ministry of Rites stayed by him throughout, explaining the key points.

"When the time comes to give thanks, everyone else kneels and kowtows; you, Zhuangyuan, need only bow your head and incline your body, and receive the edict standing."

"I don't have to kneel?" Zhuo Siheng was astonished. He knew that at the calling of names the zhuangyuan need not kneel before the imperial countenance, to show the dynasty's high regard for scholars — but the ceremony of thanks at a grand assembly was so important; was there no kneeling even for this?

The rites official smiled. He seemed to think highly of this young man before him — so exalted now, yet always neither servile nor haughty, and very even-tempered — and said patiently: "Yes. You are the zhuangyuan; you need not kneel. For at the ceremony of thanks you do not represent yourself, but the scholars of all under Heaven. The others may kneel, but the exemplar of the realm's scholars, who read the books of the sages, must stand — not because you are honored, but because learning is honored; not a courtesy to you, but the courtesy our dynasty's ancestral precept pays to the scholars of all the world."

Zhuo Siheng felt it keenly: all that reading had truly not been for nothing.

This was the one chance a person might have, in an age of autocratic imperial rule, to stand as an equal with the emperor — in the guise of a scholar.

With the rites official's guidance, he carried himself properly at the court assembly, advancing and withdrawing with just measure, without a single misstep; and when he received the edict and gave his thanks, he stood out like a crane among chickens amid all the others prostrate and kowtowing, tasting to the full the supreme glory that surely comes but once in a life.

By custom the three of the first class were granted the post of Hanlin Academy attendant, and the top five of the second class made Hanlin Academy examining editors; Tong Shipei got a collatorship at the Taishi Hall, while the rest, from the third class down, would receive their appointments after the Ministry of Personnel and the Ministry of Rites deliberated together.

The Zhaowen Hall, the Taishi Hall, the Jixian Hall and the Hanlin Academy were together called the Three Halls and the Academy. The Zhaowen Hall had general charge of the correction of the realm's books and the instruction of students — from the great matters of the court's institutional history and the weight of its rites, down to hunting for misprints in the books the state issued, all fell to them. The Taishi Hall's work was comparatively narrow, overseeing only the compiling of history and the ordering of historical records and materials. The Jixian Hall was the office for storing and collating the classics — the equivalent of the national library and national archive, and highly confidential. And the Hanlin Academy was all the emperor's secretaries and advisers, and moreover the storehouse of the state's talent. All four places were of the utmost purity and prestige; a new jinshi entering their gates, if he made no great mistake, might not exactly rise skyward at a step, but would more or less have merit to lean on and grace enough to extend to his family.

The academicians of the Three Halls and the Academy were also collectively termed the Hall academicians, and were treated more generously than other serving officials — little work, much pay, and a lofty, pure standing.

After the ceremony of thanks, the three newest attendants were summoned by the emperor, who again affirmed their achievements and, in commendation, granted them some money besides. But Zhuo Siheng was singled out by name, and this time the emperor gave him an enormous favor:

"Your Zhuo family's residence has since been put to other use; I grant you another courtyard house. Its scale and grandeur are, to be sure, nothing like what your grandfather's rank allowed when he served, but it will surely be enough for you to bring your family back from that bitter, cold place. I know you are the eldest son, the head of your household, and must naturally shoulder an eldest brother's responsibility and set his example: settle your family well, and you will serve the court and the state the better for it."