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

February 9th, the twelfth year of Yonghe.

Before dawn, the streets outside the examination hall were already packed with people. The light from lanterns and torches blended together, illuminating the tense or calm faces of more than three thousand candidates. This was the triennial metropolitan examination; those who passed would become tribute students, just one step away from being listed on the golden list of successful candidates.

Lu Qingyan stood in the crowd, carrying an exam basket. He was wearing his usual indigo robe today, with a worn-out cotton-padded jacket over it. Zhang Zhiqing stood beside him, her face somewhat pale.

"Brother Lu," Zhang Zhiqing lowered his voice, "I didn't sleep a wink last night."

"Relax," Lu Qingyan said. "Just treat it like any other day."

Even so, his own palms were a little sweaty. In his previous life, he had taken the college entrance examination and tutored students for the postgraduate entrance examination, but the pressure of the provincial examination, which determined one's fate, was different.

The line moved slowly forward. By the time it was Lu Qingyan's turn, dawn was breaking.

The search was even more rigorous than that for the provincial examination. Clothes had to be loosened and thoroughly examined, hair had to be untied, and even shoes and socks had to be removed. Every item in the examination basket was turned over and examined, the cakes were broken into pieces, and the water bag was emptied.

"Number 327, Earth Number." The bailiff handed over the number plate.

Lu Qingyan took it and entered the examination hall. He walked through the long corridor and found his examination cell. It was still located towards the back, but this time it was farther from the latrine.

There was only a table and a stool in the cell, and a wooden board nailed to the wall to serve as a bed. He put down the examination basket and checked it over: paper, ink, brush and inkstone were all there, as well as dry food wrapped in oilcloth, a small bottle of stimulating medicinal oil, and mugwort cakes that Zhao had stuffed in.

At the exact hour of Chen (7-9 AM), the drum sounded. The examination papers were distributed by the yamen runners one by one.

First session: Three essays from the Four Books and one poem in eight-character verse.

Lu Qingyan unfolded the inscription paper. The Analects states: "Do not do to others what you would not have them do to you"; Mencius said: "When poor, cultivate your own virtue; when successful, benefit all under heaven"; The Great Learning states: "Cultivate yourself, regulate your family, govern the state, and bring peace to the world." The poem's title is: "Early Spring."

He closed his eyes for a moment to calm his mind.

First, I composed a poem. Early spring… I thought of early spring in Yongning Prefecture, the tender grass sprouting on the field ridges, the new buds emerging from the willow branches. The verses took shape in my mind, harmonious in tone and rhyme.

The poem was finished, and I began to write an essay.

In his essay "What You Would Not Want For Yourself," he didn't just talk about benevolence and righteousness. Instead, he started by discussing the principle of "extending one's own feelings to others" and then moved on to the way of being an official—if officials could understand the suffering of the people, they would not impose harsh policies and disturb the people. He used examples of honest officials from previous dynasties to illustrate how they reduced taxes and rectified officialdom.

As I wrote the second piece, the sun rose higher. The cell gradually warmed up, but the air grew increasingly stuffy. Someone coughed next door, and someone across from me was reciting in a low voice.

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

The third essay is the most difficult. "Cultivating oneself, regulating one's family, governing the state, and bringing peace to the world" is the ultimate ideal of scholars, but it is easy to write in a vague and abstract way. He combines it with farming: cultivating oneself is like raising seedlings, which requires careful care; regulating one's family is like managing the fields, which requires overall planning; governing the state is like fighting drought and draining floods, which requires assessing the situation; bringing peace to the world is like favorable weather, which requires acting in accordance with the trend.

By the time he finished writing in the late afternoon, all three articles were complete. He carefully checked them, revised the wording, and copied them out again.

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

Lu Qingyan handed in his exam paper and stretched his stiff neck. His right wrist was sore and numb, so he rubbed it slowly.

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 his dry rations, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes to rest.

I recalled Yun Chengzong's words.

"We can discuss it after the results are released."

The results will be announced at the end of February. By then, regardless of whether they passed or failed, they will have to give the Duke's mansion an explanation.

The difference between passing and failing is enormous. Passing the imperial examination makes one a candidate for the lowest rank, at the very least a Jinshi (a successful candidate in the highest level of the imperial examinations), granting them official rank and influence. Failing, however, means remaining a Juren (a successful candidate in the provincial examinations), which puts one at a disadvantage in the eyes of the Duke's family.

He turned over, and the wall panel hurt his back.

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

The question on the classics was rather obscure, testing a passage about criminal law in the "Autumn Official" section of the "Rites of Zhou". Lu Qingyan had read it when he was at the prefectural school, but he wasn't very familiar with it. He composed himself, carefully recalled the passage, and slowly began to write.

The essay topic was "On Salt Administration." This was exactly what he had prepared. He discussed the salt permit system, the rampant smuggling of salt, the monopoly of salt merchants, and the difficulty ordinary people faced in obtaining salt. He finally proposed three points: to rectify the salt permit system, to crack down on smuggled salt, and to establish affordable salt shops.

Halfway through writing, his wrist started to ache again. He stopped writing and stretched his fingers. From the next cell came suppressed sobs—someone couldn't continue writing.

Lu Qingyan continued writing. His pen moved steadily, and his handwriting was clear.

When he handed in his papers in the evening, he saw several candidates being carried out. Some were deathly pale, and others looked dazed.

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

This was Lu Qingyan's forte. He had thoroughly read the *Da Yong Lu* (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. After three exams, he had worn out two pens, used up most of the ink, and filled four 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 nine days of torment, their faces etched with their emotions.

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, "I think my policy essay went astray."

"I haven't finished one math problem," 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 the courtyard, Lu Qingyan fetched water to wash up. The cold water splashed on his face, making him feel a little more awake. He changed into clean clothes and sat in the courtyard, lost in thought.

The nine-day exam was like a long battle. Now the battle is over, but we don't know whether we won or lost.

There was a knock on the courtyard gate. When they opened it, they saw Zhang Zhiqing carrying a food box.

"My mother asked someone to bring this," Zhang Zhiqing said, placing the food box on the stone table. "It contains chicken soup and a few other dishes. I thought you were alone, so I brought it over."

The food box contained steaming hot meals: chicken soup, braised pork, stir-fried vegetables, and two steamed buns.

Lu Qingyan felt a warmth in his heart: "Thank you, Brother Zhang."

The two sat down to eat. Zhang Zhiqing said between bites, "I heard that about three hundred people will pass this year's imperial examination. Out of three thousand, only three hundred will pass..."

"One out of ten," Lu Qingyan said.

"Yes," Zhang Zhiqing sighed, "I wonder how many of our six candidates from Yongning Prefecture will pass the imperial examinations."

Lu Qingyan didn't reply, but lowered his head to drink the soup. The chicken soup was thick, with oil floating on the surface.

"Brother Lu," Zhang Zhiqing suddenly lowered his voice, "Is there any news from the Duke's mansion?"

Lu Qingyan paused with his chopsticks: "No."

"That's good." Zhang Zhiqing breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's wait for the results. If we pass, we'll have more confidence to speak up."

These words are exactly the same as what Yun Chengzong said.

After the meal, Zhang Zhiqing left. Lu Qingyan cleared away the dishes and returned to her room.

The unfinished book lay spread out on the table, the paper and ink neatly arranged. He sat down, but had no interest in copying the book.

He got up and went into the yard; it was already dark. Even in February, the nights were still cold. He looked up at the starry sky; the stars were bright, one by one, cold and lonely.

Thinking back to his past life, when he was helping students prepare for the postgraduate entrance exam, he would always tell them: "Do your best and leave the rest to fate."

Now I should say these words to myself.

He gave it his all during the nine-day exam. His essays were solid, his policy proposals were practical, and his poems were also quite standard.

As for the outcome, we can only wait and see.

He turned and went back into the house, lit the lamp, and spread out the paper.

I'm not copying books anymore, I'm writing letters.

"To my dearest parents: I participated in the imperial examination from the 9th to the 17th of the second month, and everything went smoothly. Please do not worry. The examination is over, and we will know the results after the announcement of the results. I am doing well in the capital. I hope you will take good care of yourselves..."

I paused here.

Should we bring up the matter of the Duke's mansion?

In the end, he didn't mention it. He only wrote: "After the results are released, I may have something important to inform you of. I hope my parents will not worry."

The letter was sealed, and the lamp was blown out.

Lying in bed, I couldn't fall asleep. My mind kept replaying exam questions and passages of literature.

And then there was Yun Shuwei's tearful, angry face.

He turned over and closed his eyes.