The Overachieving Little Husband of the Top Scholar’s Household - Chapter 116: First Session

Chapter 116: First Session

After Du Yunse finished checking the items he would bring into the examination hall, Qiu Huanian also struggled out of bed and washed up.

Seeing him yawning repeatedly, Du Yunse came over to touch his face. “If you’re sleepy, Hua-ge’er, go back to sleep.”

Qiu Huanian shook his head, wrapped his arms around Du Yunse’s neck, and rubbed his face against his chest.

“I heard the cells in the capital’s examination compound are even narrower than those in Xiangping Prefecture. You’ll have to stay inside for three days straight; don’t let yourself suffer.”

“I’ve brought you plenty of charcoal—longan charcoal from the western market, the most expensive kind. Don’t be frugal; use as much as you need. But when burning it at night for warmth, be careful of carbon—be careful of the fumes; keep the place ventilated.”

“Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Simply remaining in the capital is already a success. If you pass this, there’s still the palace examination afterward.”

…

Du Yunse quietly held Qiu Huanian, attentively listening to his admonitions. Outside, all was silent, the bright lamplight flickering, casting their shadows close together on the wall.

As Qiu Huanian spoke, his words gradually ceased; he closed his eyes, silently counting the beats of Du Yunse’s heart, and seemed to drift back to sleep.

It was unclear how much time passed before noises arose from the courtyard—Deng Die and Wang Yinzhi were coming out of their rooms. The two of them separated as if waking from a dream.

Qiu Huanian straightened their clothes, put on a thick cloak, and pulled up his wind hood. A ring of red fox fur edged the brim, fluffy and soft, framing his fair and delicate face.

“Come on, let’s go, or we’ll get caught in the crowd.”

Deng Die had prepared breakfast. After both households ate a simple meal, they took two carriages and set off from the rented courtyard.

It was only the second quarter of the mao hour—about five-thirty in the morning. Emerging from the alley into the main street, they found it teeming with carriages despite the dim pre-dawn light.

The triennial metropolitan examination, also known as the spring session, drew scholars from across the realm, as well as students from the Imperial Academy, all converging on the capital’s examination compound in hopes of seeing their names on the apricot-colored list and embarking upon official careers, rising swiftly to glory.

By the time one achieved the juren degree, one’s family circumstances were seldom destitute; at the very least, they could afford a carriage. Thousands of juren candidates headed to the examination compound on the ninth day of the second month, forming a rare spectacle of carriages filling the streets before dawn.

Because their lodging was nearby and they had left early, Qiu Huanian’s group encountered no traffic.

Lifting the carriage curtain slightly, Qiu Huanian gazed at the countless carriages lining the broad street outside and sighed. “No wonder Principal Min repeatedly stressed in the guidelines to set out early, lest we get trapped in traffic. Who would have thought the Yu dynasty has so many juren!“

By the time one reached this stage, one’s household possessed land, status, and tax exemptions. Managed well, their finances would not be strained; with no economic worries, and promotion to officialdom just one step away, few were willing to give up.

Yet each metropolitan examination admitted only three hundred gongshi (tribute scholars), a ratio of dozens to one. Passing was anything but easy.

Unsuccessful candidates accumulated year after year, resulting in the grand spectacle of streets packed with juren during the exam.

In less than fifteen minutes, the two carriages reached the gates of the examination compound.

Du Yunse alighted first, then turned to help Qiu Huanian down.

Crowds thronged the entrance. A dozen great lanterns lit the forecourt, while minor officials in uniform blue robes moved about maintaining order—chaotic yet organized.

Daylight edged the horizon; it was time to enter the grounds.

Baiquan handed Du Yunse the basket containing his examination supplies. In front of everyone, Du Yunse merely pinched Qiu Huanian’s cheek lightly.

“Hua-ge’er, go back and sleep. We’ll meet again in three days.”

His tone was calm, as though he were merely going on a short excursion rather than facing the most crucial and grueling ordeal of the imperial examinations.

Qiu Huanian hummed softly. “Three days later.”

He watched the hem of Du Yunse’s robe arc in the air as he turned away, his back gradually merging into the current of examinees.

…

Du Yunse and Wang Yinzhi followed instructions to the area designated for candidates from Liaozhou. There, their identities would be verified before being escorted into the examination cells.

In the absence of photographs or facial recognition, identity verification relied on three steps: examination of government documents, mutual recognition among fellow provincials, and comparison of floating passes.

The so-called floating pass was akin to a modern admission ticket, recording the candidate’s native place, name, age, and physical features. Before entering the compound, officials would compare the candidate to the description on the pass.

Du Yunse’s floating pass had been issued in Xiangping Prefecture, bearing several official seals to prevent forgery.

Roughly the size of a palm, it listed his name in the center, his birthplace on the left, and his age, height, and distinguishing features on the right.

Du Yunse’s entry read: “Age twenty-one, tall, clean face, no beard, no moles, no birthmarks.”

Qiu Huanian, having seen it earlier, had been greatly amused.

“This is far too vague. At the very least they should have noted you’re good-looking!”

He had held the pass against Du Yunse’s face. “With such a description, I could find dozens of Du Yunses on a single street.”

Du Yunse helplessly pulled the pass from Qiu Huanian’s hand and tucked it carefully into his book.

“Floating passes have always recorded only these items. There are other methods of verification; together they confirm identity.”

…

Recalling Qiu Huanian’s words, Du Yunse smiled faintly as he handed the pass to the capital’s examination officer.

After a careful check, the officer signaled him through.

Wang Yinzhi followed and likewise passed; his pass described him as “Age thirty, medium build, slight beard, mole beneath the left eye.”

They walked forward a few paces. Once more Liaozhou candidates had gathered and mutually confirmed one another’s identities, they would be admitted.

“Yunse, Yinzhi, there you are!”

Du Yunse turned to see Qi Yazhi, who had passed the provincial exam alongside them.

Qi Yazhi, a native of Liaozhou, had lived in the south for many years, returning to Xiangping only on the eve of last year’s provincial exam. Renowned for his scholarship, wagers in the city had speculated whether he or Du Yunse would emerge jieyuan (provincial first).

In the end, Du Yunse claimed the top spot, with Qi Yazhi just behind him as runner-up.

Humorous and talented, Qi Yazhi had quickly become well-acquainted with most of Xiangping’s scholars.

After his pass was examined, Qi Yazhi was also ushered forward.

With most Liaozhou candidates cleared, they would soon enter the compound. Before stepping across the gate, Wang Yinzhi tugged Du Yunse’s sleeve, gesturing behind him.

Following Wang’s gaze, Du Yunse saw a luxurious carriage pulling up to the entrance. Li Ruicong, jingkui (metropolitan first) of last year’s Liaozhou provincial exam, descended.

Arriving at this hour was rather late; Li Ruicong’s expression was sour as he scolded his driver before grabbing his basket and striding toward the checkpoint, unaccompanied.

Qi Yazhi, noticing him, also recalled the enmity between Li Ruicong and Du Yunse.

In youth, Li Ruicong had caught the eye of a wealthy merchant, who married him to his daughter. For years afterward, they were harmonious. But once Li Ruicong became a juren, his true nature surfaced: he took multiple concubines and even accepted his wife’s cousin sent over by her family.

At a banquet last year, Li Ruicong had spoken disrespectfully, mocking the affection between Du Yunse and his husband. Du Yunse had publicly severed ties with him, and the two had been at odds ever since.

Skilled at navigating social circles, Qi Yazhi was affable with everyone in private. Yet when it came to choosing between Du Yunse and Li Ruicong, he knew where he stood.

He had no intention of waiting for Li Ruicong, nor of greeting him, and instead said cheerfully, “Seems Li jingkui is having trouble. The exam’s about to begin; let’s go in.”

Du Yunse withdrew his gaze indifferently. After officials inspected his clothing, shoes, and basket, he received a cell token and strolled toward the examination cell in which he would remain for three days and nights, leaving only to relieve himself.

As Qiu Huanian had said, the cells in the capital were indeed smaller than those in Xiangping.

Likely due to the sheer number of candidates, space had been maximized to cram them all in.

The cells formed endless rows, narrow paths barely wide enough for two to pass running between them. Each tiny room had a door and window, yet admitted almost no sunlight.

In the chill of early spring, the interiors were damp and frigid.

Du Yunse entered his assigned cell and first arranged the two long planks: one higher as a desk, the lower as a bench.

Next, he spread the thick dog-pelt cushion on the bench and set aside the soft tiger-pelt throw for his lap—exactly as Qiu Huanian had instructed.

That tiger pelt had been hunted specially by Wu Shen in the mountains and sent through the Wanshi Escort Agency, congratulating Du Yunse in advance on ranking in the first tier.

Border skirmishes were constant; Wu Shen had accrued considerable military merit. With the Liaozhou Commander’s favor, he was likely to be promoted to qianhu (commander of a thousand households) this year; Bao Yi might then advance to zongqi (chief flag officer).

Du Yunse ignored the pitiful amount of charcoal provided by the cell and instead filled the crude brazier with longan charcoal, lighting it with a fire striker.

The costly charcoal quickly burned bright and smokeless, gently dispelling the chill of the palm-sized room.

Just then, voices came from outside—Li Ruicong’s.

After a brief exchange with the official leading him, Li Ruicong, dissatisfied, entered the cell directly beside Du Yunse’s.

Du Yunse’s brows knit slightly. After a brief pause, he dismissed the matter and continued arranging his brushes, ink, paper, and prepared food.

Then he composed himself, sitting quietly in the narrow cell, waiting for the examiners to distribute topics and paper.

At the third quarter of the chen hour, the great bell at the compound gate tolled three times. The deep, sonorous sound reverberated through every cell, stirring the hearts of the scholars.

The first session of the metropolitan examination in the twenty-third year of Yuanhua had officially begun.

To prevent bribery or collusion, examiners had sequestered themselves in the compound more than half a month earlier, forbidden to leave. Only when the bell tolled did they emerge to oversee attendants delivering the examination papers to each cell.

The metropolitan examination’s three sessions closely resembled those of the provincial exam, though the scope was larger. The first session still tested the classics and imperial policy poetry, yet the number of questions increased markedly.

For example, in the provincial exam’s first session, there were three questions on the Four Books, five on the classics, and one regulated poem. At the metropolitan level, these expanded to five, eight, and two respectively.

Responses had to follow the rigid eight-legged essay format, citing classics precisely and polishing every word. Any line deemed “incoherent” by an examiner could see the paper rejected outright.

Thus, despite the three days and two nights allotted, one might still fail to finish if not diligent.

Du Yunse accepted the paper and quietly read through every question. After a brief pause in contemplation, he began drafting his answers.

Time passed swiftly in silence. The sun rose from the east, climbing higher until it stood overhead, and at last a few rays of light managed to slip into the cramped cell.

From the adjacent cell came more noise—by noon, Li Ruicong had already turned out his “relief token” three times.

During the three-day session, examinees were allowed bathroom breaks. The latrines were close, built in a long row so that leaving the cell led directly to them.

When a candidate wished to go, he turned over the token hanging by his door. An attendant would escort him, ensuring he neither conversed nor consulted notes.

Though permitted, most candidates minimized such breaks to save time; three trips in one morning was indeed excessive.

The attendant’s footsteps grew heavier each time, betraying irritation.

Unperturbed by the commotion, Du Yunse moistened his brush at the fine chengni inkstone and lowered it onto the draft paper bathed in golden light.

He had already completed most of the five-character, eight-rhyme poem:

“At twenty-seven years of study, I babble in the sages’ shadow.
In a fleeting moment, I recall the ancients;
Renewing the realm, I shall return for a thousand years.”

Footnotes:

• • Spring session (春闱, chunwei): Another name for the metropolitan examination, held in spring once every three years.

• • Juren (舉人): Degree awarded upon passing the provincial examination; candidates eligible for the metropolitan exam.

• • Gongshi (貢士): Scholars who passed the metropolitan exam and qualified for the palace examination.

• • Jieyuan (解元): Top scorer of the provincial examination.

• • Jingkui (經魁): Title given to the metropolitan top scorer of a province.

• • Eight-legged essay (八股文): Strictly formatted prose style required in imperial examinations, with eight sections.

• • Chengni inkstone (澄泥硯): A high-quality inkstone made from refined clay, prized for its smoothness and moisture retention.

• • Timekeeping: Mao hour (卯時) ≈ 5–7 a.m.; Chen hour (辰時) ≈ 7–9 a.m.