A Poor Man's Son-in-Law: He Picks Up the Daughter of a Duke's Mansion at the Start

September 8th, 3:45 AM.

Lu Qingyan stood outside the provincial capital's examination hall, carrying an examination basket. The sky was still dark, the light from lanterns and torches illuminating the dense crowd. More than three thousand scholars from across the province were crammed into this street, waiting to enter.

Zhang Zhiqing stood to his left, and Zhou Wenyuan to his right. The three of them remained silent, slowly moving forward with the crowd.

"Those from Yongning Prefecture, please line up here!"

The gruff shouts of the yamen runners rang out. Lu Qingyan and his two companions moved into the Yongning Prefecture's line. There were already dozens of people ahead of them, all with solemn expressions. He saw several of his classmates from the prefectural school, nodded to them as a greeting.

The procession moved very slowly. A dozen tables were set up in front of the examination hall gate, with two constables sitting behind each table, one checking identities and the other conducting a body search.

By the time it was Lu Qingyan's turn, dawn was breaking.

"Name, place of origin." The yamen runner didn't even look up.

"Lu Qingyan, Yongning County, Yongning Prefecture."

The bailiff flipped through the roster, found the name, and crossed it out with a vermilion pen. Another bailiff stepped forward: "Raise your hand."

He examined her thoroughly from head to toe. He loosened her hair, checked her clothes, and even removed her shoes and socks for inspection. He emptied her examination basket and examined everything carefully. He unscrewed the pen tube, broke open the ink sticks, and crumbled the cakes.

"Go in."

Lu Qingyan put her shoes and socks back on, packed her examination basket, and walked into the gate of the examination hall.

Before us stretched a long corridor, flanked by high walls. At the end of the corridor stood another gate, above which hung a plaque that read "Dragon Gate." Beyond this gate lay the actual examination hall.

Inside the Dragon Gate, the courtyard was spacious. In front was the main hall, and on both sides were long rows of cells—rows of low huts, each three feet wide and four feet deep, without doors, only a coarse cloth curtain hanging from them. The cells were numbered according to the Thousand Character Classic, from the character "天" (heaven) to the character "地" (earth).

"Lu Qingyan—" a yamen runner announced.

"exist."

Number 107 (地字一零七).

Lu Qingyan took the number and followed the directions. The further he went into the cells, the stronger the smell became. When he found "Number 107," he understood—this cell was right next to the latrine.

The curtain was lifted, and a stench assaulted the senses. A chamber pot sat in the corner, clearly recently used and yet to be cleaned. The sounds from the outhouse next door were clearly audible.

Lu Qingyan paused, put down the examination basket, and rolled up his sleeves. He took out a sachet of mugwort—prepared by Zhao Shi—from the basket and lit it. He then took out a small porcelain bottle, poured some medicinal powder into the chamber pot, and sprinkled it in. Finally, he took out a cloth, soaked it in water, and wiped the table and chairs.

After doing all that, the smell lessened a bit. He spread out a cushion and arranged paper and pens.

At the exact hour of Chen (7-9 AM), the drum sounded. The petition was delivered by a yamen runner.

First round: Three essays from the Four Books, and one poem for the examination.

Lu Qingyan unfolded the inscription paper. The inscription read: "The superior man is magnanimous and at ease" (from the Analects); "Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on this person" (from Mencius); "The Doctrine of the Mean" (from the Doctrine of the Mean). The poem's title was: "Autumn Night."

He closed his eyes for a moment. A cough came from the next cell, someone across the way was quietly reciting their lessons, and there were rustling sounds coming from the direction of the outhouse. But these sounds gradually faded into the distance.

He first composed a poem. Autumn night… He thought of the old locust tree in the academy, and the dappled shadows cast by moonlight filtering through its branches. The verses took shape in his mind, their tones and rhymes perfectly matched.

After finishing the poem, I began writing articles.

In his essay "A Gentleman is Open and Honest," he avoids empty talk about morality and instead focuses on the relationship between "openness" and "responsibility"—a gentleman is open and honest because he has a sense of responsibility and principles, thus he can have a clear conscience. He cites the example of Yu Qian, an upright official from the previous dynasty, who stepped forward after the Tumu Crisis and turned the tide.

As he wrote the second piece, the sun rose higher. The cell became stiflingly hot. Sweat streamed down his forehead, dripping onto the paper, which he carefully absorbed with a cloth.

At noon, a servant brought lunch—two steamed buns and a dish of pickled vegetables. Lu Qingyan ate them with water and continued writing.

The third chapter is the most difficult. "Achieving Harmony and Balance" is the core of the Doctrine of the Mean, but it is easy to write in a vague and abstract way. He combines it with agriculture—spring plowing, summer weeding, autumn harvesting, and winter storage; the four seasons are in regularity, which is the harmony and balance of heaven and earth. The same applies to governing a country; one should not be impatient for quick success and instant benefits, but should proceed step by step.

By the time of Shenshi (3-5 PM), he had finished writing the three articles. He carefully checked them, revised the wording, and copied them correctly.

At the hour of You (5-7 PM), the drum sounds to signal the end of the game.

The sound of yamen runners' footsteps came from outside the curtain, collecting the exam papers one by one. Lu Qingyan handed in his paper and stretched his stiff neck. Suppressed sobs came from the next cell—someone hadn't finished.

At night, lanterns were lit in the examination hall. Only one candle was allowed in each examination cell, making the light dim. Lu Qingyan ate some dry rations, drank some water, and leaned against the wall to rest with his eyes closed.

The smell of the chamber pot wafted over, and mosquitoes buzzed. He lit a second sachet of mugwort, the smoke stinging his eyes.

The sound of vomiting came from not far away, followed by the shouts of the constables. Someone was carried away.

Lu Qingyan opened her eyes and looked at the flickering lantern light outside the curtain. She recalled the college entrance examination in her previous life—back then, there were electric fans, air conditioners, and comfortable desks and chairs. But here, more than three thousand people were crammed into this tiny space, living next to chamber pots and accompanied by mosquitoes.

But the path is one you choose.

He closed his eyes again and regulated his breathing. He needed to conserve his energy; there were two more games tomorrow.

The second day's exam consisted of tests on classical texts and policy essays.

The question on classical texts was rather obscure, testing a passage about taxes from the *Zhou Li* (Rites of Zhou), specifically the section on the Earth Official. Many candidates panicked upon seeing the question. Lu Qingyan overheard someone next door muttering, "This...this I haven't read..."

He had read it. He had borrowed the "Commentary on the Rites of Zhou" from the library of the prefectural school and even made notes. Now, as he put pen to paper, though it was not easy, he was confident in his ability to write.

The essay topic was "On the Grand Canal Transport." This was exactly what he had prepared. He discussed the silting up of the canal, the loss of grain transported, the hardships of the canal workers, and the exploitation along the way. Finally, he proposed three points: dredging the canal, improving the canal boats, and reforming the canal officials.

Halfway through writing, his wrist grew sore and numb. He stopped writing and moved his fingers. The smell of the chamber pot wafted over again, this time even stronger—the person in the next cell couldn't hold it in and had relieved himself in his cell.

Lu Qingyan remained unfazed and continued writing. His pen moved steadily, and his handwriting was neat.

When he handed in his papers in the evening, he saw several candidates being helped out of the exam room. Some looked dazed, while others were deathly pale.

The third day's exams covered law, mathematics, and current affairs.

This was Lu Qingyan's forte. He had thoroughly read the "Great Yong Law," had a foundation in mathematics from his previous life, and paid close attention to current affairs. He answered the questions smoothly.

At the end of the Wei hour (1-3 PM), the final round of papers was concluded.

After the drumbeats rang three times, the bailiffs shouted, "The papers are all collected! Candidates, leave the examination hall!"

Lu Qingyan packed up his exam basket. His pen was half worn down, most of the ink was used, and he had used up three reams of paper. He lifted the curtain and stepped out; the sunlight was blinding.

In the courtyard, the examinees emerged one after another. Some laughed heartily, some collapsed to the ground, and some wept, covering their faces. More than three thousand people, enduring three days of torment, their emotions were etched on their faces.

Zhang Zhiqing emerged from the opposite cell, his steps unsteady, but his eyes clear. The two looked at each other and nodded.

Zhou Wenyuan also came out, his eyes were sunken, but he had a smile on his lips—he had finished the exam, and no matter the result, he had passed this hurdle.

The three met up in silence and walked out side by side.

Upon exiting the examination hall, the streets were filled with family members, servants, and carriages. Some rushed forward to embrace him, while others anxiously inquired about his needs.

Lu Qingyan and his two companions had no family members to pick them up. They silently made their way through the crowd toward their lodgings.

After walking for a while, Zhang Zhiqing suddenly said, "It seems that my last policy essay went astray."

"I also made a mistake in quoting it," Zhou Wenyuan said.

Lu Qingyan didn't say anything. All he wanted to do right now was go back, take a shower, and get some sleep.

Back in their rented courtyard, Aunt Li had prepared hot water. The three of them quickly washed up and went straight to bed.

Lu Qingyan lay in bed, unable to sleep. The smell of the cell seemed to still linger in his nose, and the image of the chamber pot was still before his eyes. But his mind was calm—he had written what needed to be written, and answered what needed to be answered.

He remembered the cell next to the latrine, the stench, and the mosquito bites.

Then I thought of home. My parents should be waiting for news, my eldest brother should be taking care of his wife, my second brother should be making bonsai, and Tao Hua and Shun Hua should be learning to read.

He turned over and closed his eyes.

The exams are over. Now, all that's left is to wait for the results.