Chapter 10
Chapter 10: The Academy Exam
In the fifth and sixth months, the fields were a battlefield. Little Nan and Li Xue Dong fought their own war too—heads buried in books, eyes red, too busy to even remember what the sky looked like.
Then, in the blink of an eye, the seventh month arrived.
Old Master Kuan of the Li family’s Wang Branch quietly visited the Gao family’s market town twice, speaking with Teacher Gao about the academy exam trip to Hang Zhou City.
It wasn’t complicated. The plan settled quickly: Eldest Sister Li Jin Zhu would accompany Li Xue Dong as before. Old Master Kuan’s nephew, Li Wen Hua, would arrive two days early to arrange lodging and smooth the path.
This time, Old Master Kuan had Teacher Gao pass fifteen silver coins to Li Jin Zhu.
Li Jin Zhu kept six for Li Yu Zhu and Li Yin Zhu, in case the work at home grew too heavy and they needed to rent an ox or hire hands.
The night before they set out, Li Jin Zhu had Li Yu Zhu cut a new outfit for Li Xue Dong—pieces she could sew along the way. When you were poor, you didn’t “prepare.” You stitched while running.
The boat ride to Hang Zhou took two full days. There was no room for idle hands.
They agreed to meet at the gate of the Academy Temple in Hang Zhou. When Li Wen Hua finally spotted them, the first thing he saw was Little Nan shrinking behind Li Jin Zhu like a shadow with eyes.
His brows slammed together. “Why did you bring her?”
“Eldest Sister was afraid she couldn’t manage everything alone,” Li Xue Dong said quickly. “And A Nan can read. Eldest Sister said she can help with notices and postings.”
Li Wen Hua still looked unhappy, but he didn’t argue. His uncle had warned him: listen to Xue Dong. Don’t throw your weight around.
Even so, irritation gnawed at him. A girl this big was half a laborer. Instead of working the fields, she’d come all the way here to eat and drink for free.
Wasteful.
He swallowed it and led them to the inn he’d booked.
He’d come two days early and spent a day and a half comparing prices and rooms. Only that afternoon had he finally chosen the most cost-effective place and put down a deposit.
As for the first two nights, July wasn’t cold. He was a grown man; he could curl up anywhere for a night without spending extra copper cash on lodging.
Early the next morning, a notice was posted at the examination compound gate: all examinees were to enter through the ceremonial gate that afternoon to receive the Classics assignment and submit their work within two days.
Little Nan went to collect it. The options were classics exposition, history essay, poetry, and Investigation of Things. Without hesitation, she chose the classics exposition.
Investigation of Things was her strongest subject. At this level, she could score full marks without breaking a sweat—but her brother would only do moderately well. She couldn’t risk showing off.
She was good at history too, but history essays demanded stance and argument. Her views might clash with current orthodoxy, and it was foolish to be unusual when chasing a degree. More than that, she was already taking someone else’s place. She needed to keep her head down and follow the doctrine of the mean: blend in, breathe like everyone else, and never be the tallest stalk in the field.
Her classics essay came out steady and proper. She turned it in two hours before the deadline.
A day later, the Classics results were posted. One-third of the examinees were eliminated.
The crowd outside the compound exploded.
It was only an assignment! Eliminating so many people was outrageous!
Under the previous two education commissioners of Liang Zhe Circuit, the Classics assignment had been voluntary—do it or don’t. No one had ever been eliminated over it.
But court rules gave the education commissioner full authority to decide whether the Classics assignment would eliminate examinees.
This year’s commissioner had chosen blood.
The eliminated examinees clustered in angry knots, faces red with fury, yet none dared shout too loudly.
The new Education Commissioner Wei had taken office after the New Year. He came from the direct line of the Wei family of Yu Zhang, was a second laureate by background, and had been famous since his teens—one of the realm’s celebrated talents. With a man like that holding the knife, who dared complain?
Li Xue Dong’s name sat around the middle among those who passed. Little Nan quietly let out a breath.
Good. Her essay level was solid. Her disguise, too.
She planted her hands on her hips, confidence bubbling up like a kettle finally set on the fire.
Once a top student, always a top student.
Come on, Li. Bring home that licentiate.
When the Classics results went up, the official exam schedule went up as well. Ping Jiang Prefecture was assigned the final day.
The academy exam was far stricter than the prefecture exam. A quarter-hour before dawn, the day’s students lined up at the examination compound gate, neat and silent, ordered by their Classics ranking.
Before dawn, the great gates opened. Education Commissioner Wei, dressed in a crisp new official robe, stepped out and stood on the stone steps. A page handed him the roster. He began to call names.
Each student called carried his exam basket toward the Dragon Gate.
A minor clerk at the commissioner’s side announced the student’s native place, age, and identifying features in a loud, clear voice. Education Commissioner Wei looked the student over, nodded, and the clerk sang out the name of the guarantor. From among the stipend students below, someone stepped forward, answered, and came up to press a fingerprint seal.
Little Nan watched and listened, heart knotted tight.
The calling order matched the line order. When the person ahead of her went in, Education Commissioner Wei called, “Li Xue Dong.”
Little Nan’s heart jumped into her throat. Carrying the exam basket, she stepped forward and faced him.
Education Commissioner Wei scanned the roster—three generations of Li family history. A poor orphan. Then he looked at the examinee in front of him: dark, thin, and small, dressed in rough homespun, a black cloth tied around his head, a battered old basket in his hand. His eyes were quick and bright, but full of alarm, like a startled animal.
Education Commissioner Wei’s expression softened. “Don’t be nervous. Do your best. Go on.”
Little Nan exhaled without meaning to.
Past the screen wall, two clerks searched her. One checked the basket. The other patted her down with brisk efficiency. A third clerk handed her a finely printed book of poetry rhymes—the only reference allowed inside—and waved her onward.
A cold sweat prickled along her back. She walked a few steps, then forced herself to breathe slowly.
Good.
The worst hurdle was over.
Inside the compound, the exam cells were arranged in the same sequence as the line outside. Little Nan found her pigeon-cage-sized cell and inspected it carefully.
Middle of the row. Not too forward, not too back. Perfect—exactly the kind of forgettable placement her doctrine of the mean required.
The academy exam topics matched the county and prefecture exams: two essays on the classics, one regulated five-character poem with six rhymes, and one Investigation of Things paper.
The two essay prompts were steady and unremarkable.
Little Nan loosened a fraction and tackled the Investigation of Things paper first. This one, she could answer perfectly.
She finished it with care. When she picked up the essay prompts, a clerk for the invigilator walked past each cell and stamped a red seal across the middle of every written sheet.
The stamp read chen.
Was that the hour? A mark against cheating? How did it work?
Not now.
Little Nan snapped her attention back and began drafting her essays.
By mid-afternoon, the Dragon Gate opened and released the first batch of examinees who had submitted. A quarter-hour later, it opened again for the second batch.
Little Nan checked her work one last time. The cells on both sides had already emptied by half. It was time.
She submitted her papers, lifted her exam basket, and hunched her shoulders, keeping her head down in a timid little posture. After a wait, the Dragon Gate opened for the fourth time, and she slipped out with that wave.
She had a good feeling about this one.