The world was at peace, and all endeavors were being revived.
With Wei Yan and Grand Tutor Li overthrown, the court had Xie Zheng to lead the military, but the civil officials lacked a pillar to shoulder the responsibilities. Grand Tutor Tao had no choice but to temporarily return to court and resume his duties, waiting until a capable successor emerged before resigning to resume his carefree, reclusive life.
Gongsun Yin, renowned as the "Wise Man of Hejian," also broke his clan's rule against entering officialdom and joined the Hanlin Academy, receiving the additional title of Junior Tutor to instruct the young emperor.
The factions of Li and Wei in the court naturally could not escape long-overdue punishment—some were demoted, others imprisoned. With the Prince Regent's backing, the young emperor was brimming with confidence. In less than a year since his ascension, he had reshuffled the entire court.
Many positions were left vacant, and to fill these gaps, officials who had been marginalized and transferred out of the capital years ago for refusing to take sides were finally given important roles. Those with mediocre achievements but clean records and seniority were temporarily promoted to replace those transferred to regional posts.
However, this wave of promotions left vacancies in local government offices that still needed to be filled. That year, in addition to the regular imperial exam, the young emperor also held an additional special exam. As a result, from the beginning of the year, candidates had flooded the capital like a school of fish crossing a river, filling every inn in the city to capacity.
In March, the wedding of the Prince Regent and the Huaihua General overshadowed public discussions about the imperial exam. It wasn’t until the results were announced in April that debates about the exam’s outcome and questions boiled over once more.
Outside the drum tower where the results were posted, the crowd was packed shoulder to shoulder that day, with joy and sorrow intermingling. Some, after a decade of arduous study, wept with happiness upon seeing their names on the list, while others, finding themselves unsuccessful, wore expressions of utter devastation.
Many wealthy merchants ordered their servants to keep watch at the street corners where the results were posted. Whenever they spotted a young, handsome, and radiant-faced scholar, they knew he must have passed. They would immediately drag him to a nearby teahouse or tavern, hoping to arrange a marriage with their daughters.
This phenomenon was jokingly referred to by the common folk as "groom-catching under the list."
A young man in a slightly worn indigo-blue robe squeezed through the crowd, scanning the posted result list from top to bottom and back again several times. Yet, he still couldn’t find his name. Gradually, his face turned ashen, and his entire demeanor slumped in defeat. Dispirited, he was jostled to the outskirts of the crowd by others checking the results.
"Brother Song!" A young man standing at the street corner recognized the blue-robed scholar and enthusiastically waved at him.
The blue-robed man was none other than Song Yan. He forced a faint smile and cupped his hands in greeting. "Brother Wu."
Seeing Song Yan’s expression, the young man immediately knew he had failed again and comforted him, "Brother Song, don’t be disheartened. You passed the provincial exam at such a young age—already the envy of many. Ordinary people often spend decades trying to pass the imperial exams. Take my uncle, for example—he failed eleven times before finally securing an official post thanks to this year’s special exam."
Brother Wu had failed the provincial exam and was still only a xiucai (scholar). Today, he was checking the results on behalf of his uncle.
At these words, Song Yan’s face grew even paler, but he still managed to offer a congratulatory bow.The young man was about the same age as Song Yan, but coming from a family with modest means and having an uncle who had failed the imperial exam eleven times before him, he took his own failure in stride. However, having been friends with Song Yan for two or three years and knowing his circumstances, he couldn’t help but ask as they walked back together, “Brother Song, what are your plans now?”
A trace of embarrassment flickered across Song Yan’s face as he replied, “My mother has passed, and there are no relatives left in the clan. I’ll likely stay in the capital, seeking a position as a private tutor or honored guest in some noble household—just a temporary refuge until I can take the exam again in three years.”
Back in the small county of Qingping, he had been admired everywhere, even favored by the county magistrate. He had thought himself a phoenix among men. But upon arriving in the capital, he realized that the streets were filled with the illustrious and noble. A wine jar casually tossed in the pleasure quarters could hit several disheartened scholars drowning their sorrows in drink.
It truly echoed the words of Fan Changyu’s son-in-law from years past: “The northern geese fly south, but phoenixes crowd the land, leaving no place to alight.”
His proud scholarly achievements were utterly unremarkable in the capital of Great Yin, where golden scales—metaphors for the elite—were everywhere. The meager silver gifted by local gentry after he passed the provincial exam, along with the magistrate’s subsidy for his journey to the capital, paled in comparison to the finery worn by the wealthy youths.
In his first year in the capital, Song Yan truly felt like a country chicken that had stumbled into a phoenix’s nest, constantly on edge, terrified of being looked down upon. The sense of inferiority that had haunted him from adolescence to young adulthood—though it had seemed to fade after he became a provincial scholar—returned with a vengeance in the capital.
Back when he studied at the county school, he had gone to great lengths to hide the fact that his education was funded by a butcher’s family, secured through a betrothal to their daughter. Later, in the capital, to mingle with renowned scholars, he had to conceal his shabby origins, forcing himself to attend various poetry gatherings to keep up appearances.
For a scholar like him, with no connections, the only path to a smoother future in the capital was to gain the favor of a high-ranking official. And the most secure bond of all was marriage. To make himself known among the capital’s elite, he needed to distinguish himself in poetry circles and then earn a place on the final exam roster—only then could he hope for an olive branch, rather than being “snatched” as a son-in-law by some mediocre merchant after the results were posted.
For a decade, he had burned the midnight oil, studying relentlessly, and schemed tirelessly to cultivate advantageous connections. He absolutely could not afford to fail in the imperial exams. But sometimes, man’s plans are no match for heaven’s will.
A few days before the exam that year, news reached the capital that Qingping County had been raided by bandits. Learning that his mother and the magistrate’s family had been brutally killed on the road, he was devastated. Distraught, he underperformed in the exams and ultimately failed.
After learning the circumstances, the friends he had made in the capital expressed sympathy, believing he would have passed if not for the tragedy. They were certain he would succeed if he tried again in three years.
Yet this year, he failed once more.
Just thinking about facing those friends who had supported him for the past two or three years made Song Yan’s face burn with shame.
Back then, he could blame his mother’s death. But what excuse did he have for this year’s failure?Of course he knew what had unsettled him during the examination—the grand wedding between the Prince Regent and General Huaihua in March. The woman he once believed would hinder his career had now become someone he could only yearn for from afar. Even the Prince Regent didn’t mind her previous marriage and had sought imperial permission to wed her.
His withdrawal from the betrothal back then had truly become a colossal joke.
But who could have foreseen what would happen later?
He simply didn’t want to endure hardship anymore, didn’t want his mother to grovel and fawn over others. He wanted to achieve greatness.
He still remembered their childhood friendship. But precisely because he remembered, every time he saw Fan Changyu’s radiant smile, he was reminded of his mother’s subservience—how she had to praise that couple as if they were Bodhisattvas incarnate just for a bowl of food from the Fan family’s charity.
And then there were the whispers behind his back—how the Song family might call themselves scholars, but they only managed to keep food on the table thanks to the Fan butcher’s family. Why bother with books? Might as well marry into the Fan family.
Those veiled taunts and sneers had stayed with Song Yan for years. But he could say nothing. Sometimes, he even hated the Fan family.
Hated their hypocritical charity, how it had trapped him and his mother in an inescapable debt of so-called kindness.
Why did the Fan family help him? Wasn’t it just a gamble that he might amount to something one day? It was nothing but false benevolence!
When Fan Changyu said she was willing to dissolve their engagement, did she not realize that doing so would brand him as ungrateful? How could he possibly agree to it?
Later, when the Fan couple died and the Changyu sisters were driven to the brink of losing even their home, he had felt a dark, secret satisfaction.
All his life, he had been the one looking up to her, pandering to her. When she was backed into a corner with no way out, would she finally shed that pride and stubbornness and come begging to him?
He had waited. But in the end, all he got was news of her taking in a husband…
Her spine, it seemed, would rather snap straight than bend to him even once.
It was April, and a spring rain had just passed.
Lost in these bitter memories, Song Yan didn’t notice the carriage on the street until the young man beside him yanked him aside, barely avoiding a collision.
Even so, the carriage splattered mud all over his robes. The driver, seeing his tattered clothes and lack of the triumphant air of a successful examinee, dismissed him as a poor scholar and spat viciously. "Are you blind?"
"Hey! Watch your tongue!" His companion bristled in his defense, but Song Yan, noting the carriage’s opulence, stopped him. "It’s probably someone influential. Best not to stir trouble. Let it go."
His friend reluctantly relented. Seeing Song Yan so dejected, he thought for a moment and said, "Brother Song, since you mentioned wanting to work as a private tutor or honored guest for an official’s family, I might have a lead. My uncle has been teaching a young girl at the Office of Presentations this past year. Now that he’s passed the imperial exams, he’ll have to resign. If you’re willing, I can ask him to recommend you. Teaching a child won’t take much effort, and you’d have time to study for the next exam in three years."
Becoming a tutor or advisor for a high-ranking family sounded simple, but connections were essential—and those required no small amount of silver to secure.Song Yan's ashen face, which had been devoid of color for half the day, finally showed a hint of joy at this moment. He stopped in his tracks and bowed deeply to the young man: "Brother Wu, your great kindness is something Song Yan... will never forget."
The young man laughed heartily: "With the friendship between us, Brother Song, there's no need for such formalities. My uncle initially wanted me to go, but as a mere scholar, how could I dare step through those gates? It's better to wait until my uncle takes up his post in the prefecture, and I can follow to broaden my horizons. It's only because Brother Song truly has the knowledge that I dared to mention this to you."
Once this matter was settled, three days later, Song Yan went to the Office of Presentations as agreed.
Before he could formally replace the young man's uncle as the private tutor, the official's family naturally had to meet him first and assess his knowledge. Only if they approved would he be allowed to stay.
Song Yan was quite confident about this.
The young man's uncle was a man nearing fifty named Wu Guangkun—stubborn in character and even more rigid in his learning. He had managed to pass the provincial examination solely by rote memorization of past exam questions and numerous flowery essays. After attempting the exams for several years, he finally got lucky.
Later, when sitting for the metropolitan examination, he tried to replicate his previous method, but unfortunately, he never managed to guess the questions correctly again. Fortunately, he encountered an extra examination and finally secured an official position.
Song Yan believed his own knowledge far surpassed Wu Guangkun's.
However, he didn’t know who the influential figure was. Wu Guangkun had been rather cryptic about it, saying only that Song Yan would learn the person’s identity once he was formally hired.
Having spent years trying to forge connections with the powerful, Song Yan immediately recognized this as an opportunity to climb high.
For today’s meeting, he had gone all out, spending his limited silver to have a new dark green robe tailored, all to leave a good impression on the noble.
When Wu Guangkun entered the room to introduce him, Song Yan waited outside, his nervousness no less intense than when he had gone to check the spring examination results a few days prior.
At his age, if he couldn’t find a path forward in the capital, the hope of marrying a noblewoman to smooth his future career would become nothing but a distant dream.
Step by step, he had left the small town of Lin'an behind, witnessed the splendor of the capital, and yet his ambitions remained unfulfilled. He was unwilling to return to that backwater.
After waiting anxiously for a while, he was finally summoned inside. Not daring to look around, Song Yan entered with his head bowed and performed a proper bow, his wide green sleeves falling gracefully from his wrists, exuding the demeanor of a Wei-Jin scholar. He tried his best to appear neither servile nor overbearing as he said, "This humble scholar, Song Yan, greets my lord."
For a moment, no one in the room spoke.
Song Yan remained in his bowing posture, but his heart was practically in his throat.
Even the one who had introduced him sensed something amiss. Wu Guangkun stole a glance at the person seated above, worried that they might find Song Yan too young and doubt his knowledge. After all, since he was the one who had recommended Song Yan, if the noble took a dislike to him, it might reflect poorly on himself. So Wu Guangkun spoke up for Song Yan: "Though young, Scholar Song is a provincial graduate—"
"I know," came a crisp, clear voice from above, like the ringing of jade.
Hearing this voice, Song Yan couldn’t help but look up. When he saw the heroic female general seated above—dressed in silver-red soft armor, draped in a tea-white brocade robe, with one arm bared in the armor’s civil and military sleeves—his face turned as pale as paper."Song Yan." Fan Changyu uttered the name calmly, her sharp gaze now tempered to conceal its edge. Her voice betrayed no emotion, yet the commanding presence of one who led thousands of troops was overwhelming even as she simply sat there.
Song Yan managed to meet Fan Changyu's eyes for only a moment before lowering his head in shame. A flood of humiliation washed over him as he bowed deeply once more, his posture as deferential as possible. "This lowly one... Song Yan pays his respects... to the Grand General."
OpenNovel