The vermilion doors of the great hall were tightly shut. Inside, the palace lanterns cast a warm glow, and the room was eerily silent.
The sun rose and set, casting mottled gray shadows on the hall's brick floor. The intricate patterns, their edges blurred, resembled the suppressed emotions of a spring day.
He sat motionless, watching these women in plain clothes and minimal makeup.
So young, so full of vitality—but did they truly understand what the imperial court was really like?
Many of the women set down their brushes and retrieved the Palace Cakes they had received while waiting outside the hall at dawn beneath the steps of Your Majesty. They ate quietly at their seats.
Only she remained bent over her desk, her wrist poised as she swiftly wielded the brush. Ink dots speckled the white paper, her back ramrod straight as if unaware of fatigue.
Her eyes, dark and intense, focused on the page as her brush flew across it. Neat characters filled the red-lined columns, and a thin stack of Gold-Foil Writing Paper had already accumulated to her left.
Amidst the sea of red lips, delicate brows, and plain faces, his gaze gradually shifted to her. He watched her eyelids flutter involuntarily, the stray hairs at her temples brushing against her brows, the utterly absorbed and serious expression on her face as she poured her heart into writing this essay.
Several women around her finished eating and resumed writing their policy essays.
Only the packet of Palace Cakes beside her remained untouched, perfectly intact.
Noticing her uniqueness, he tilted his body, propping his chin on his arm, and studied her intently.
His mind drifted back to that day on the yellow-earth official road north of Chongzhou City: a dilapidated temple, a woman in plain clothes, her eyes stubborn and resolute as she unexpectedly asked him his surname and given name.
Never in his life had anyone asked him that question.
His name was known throughout the land, yet no one dared to utter it, and few understood the profound meaning it carried.
Guǎ—solitary.
Since ancient times, all emperors were solitary. Even his parents, who complemented each other like a sword and its sheath, had walked alone through countless years, shedding blood, sweat, and tears, sacrificing countless people and things, just to earn a few decades of companionship in this life.
Naming him Guǎ was not a wish for him to live a solitary life, but a recognition that this empire, steeped in their lifelong efforts, could only be inherited by him alone.
He was their only child, the sole successor to the hardships, burdens, and isolation of rulership. Who else could possibly bear this duty in the future?
Others saw only his glorious exterior, unaware of the weight upon his shoulders. The difficulties of being a sovereign were indescribable.
Even if they could be described, no one would speak of them.
…
"Your Highness?"
An official from the Court of Imperial Entertainments, noticing his fixed gaze on a woman, softly called to him.
He snapped back to reality, aware of his impropriety, and frowned. Lifting his eyes, he unexpectedly met her probing gaze.
It was the same clear, penetrating look she had given him that day.
He calmly averted his eyes, scanning the corners of the hall and the seated candidates before finally looking down.
She appeared so young, barely seventeen or eighteen, with an innocent and delicate face. Yet she had dared to violate the rules in the Metropolitan Examination, composing an essay unlike any he had seen from other women.
But why had she broken the rules?
He closed his eyes slightly, recalling what Gu Qin had said to him days earlier in the Ministry of Rites Examination Hall.
He never expected that in such a short time, she could have befriended Shen Zhili—and that Shen Zhili would go so far as to deliver a visiting card to Gu Qin’s residence on her behalf.
It was clear she truly possessed something extraordinary.The crimson candle wax dripped down, fiery in hue, startling as blood.
When he looked up again, he found her still gazing at him.
His vision darkened, astonished by her audacity.
Meeting his stern gaze, she immediately averted her eyes.
Yet even so, he clearly saw the flickering hope in her eyes.
What was she yearning for?
Official rank or wealth?
On the polished desk lay a neat stack of gold-foil writing paper. Her brush and ink had been put away, and the package of palace cakes beside them remained untouched.
A Ministry of Rites official noticed this and approached to whisper inquiries. Learning she had completed all her answers, he was surprised but, bound by regulations forbidding early departure, could only let her remain seated until sunset when she would exit the hall with the others.
Observing this, his expression shifted again. He saw her slightly bow her head, staring intently at the desk before her, motionless for a long while, lost in unknown thoughts.
This woman...
Quite intriguing.
·
Deep into the night, the Outer Pavilion of the Eastern Palace remained brightly lit.
Several Imperial Academy grand secretaries and Ministry of Rites officials bustled before long tables, organizing palace examination papers by surname. Lecturers of Classics from the Imperial Academy brought them before him one by one, loudly reading aloud the policy essays inscribed thereon.
Seated behind his desk, he reviewed memorials from two provinces while listening to the recitations. After a long while, he gathered the scattered memorials and lifted his eyes. "Bring them here. I shall read them myself."
Immediately, someone carried the thick stack of policy essays to his desk.
He flipped through them briefly and looked up. "Are the Meng submissions among these?"
"Your Highness, one moment." The attendant turned, brought another stack, respectfully set it down, and extracted one document to present. "This is Meng Tinghui's policy essay."
He glanced at the attendant, lips parting to clarify he hadn't specifically requested Meng Tinghui's. But recalling she was the only Meng candidate in this palace examination, his brow cooled, face stiffening as he accepted the proffered stack. With a rustle, he spread the gold-foil papers across his desk, scanning them.
"To be a ruler is difficult; to be a subject is even harder.
Your subject has heard it said: If my body can save the people, I would not regret the sacrifice.
This is how our dynasty expands borders, enjoys the realm, and unifies the four seas.
..."
He read no further, his gaze lingering on that single line, gradually growing fervent.
—Your subject has heard it said: If my body can save the people, I would not regret the sacrifice.
From whom had she heard these words?
Composing himself, he continued reading.
Across sheet after sheet of gold-foil paper, proud, upright regular script characters formed a magnificent composition, compelling him to silently applaud in admiration.
Talented scholars were often aloof and uncompromising—when had he ever encountered a woman like her?
He recalled her gaze lifting to meet his in the Hall of Preserved Harmony, and later, her focused expression as she stared at the desk.
What truly occupied her thoughts?
What did she ultimately seek?
After a moment's reflection, he picked up his brush, dipped it in vermilion ink, and marked a hook on the upper right corner of her paper. Turning, he summoned an official. "The Top Three Candidates and seven Second Class Candidates must be selected by the day after tomorrow at the latest. However, the designation of the First Scholar of the First Class will be personally decided by me after the Minor Proclamation Ceremony."
The Ministry of Rites official looked astonished, then hesitated. "If the First Scholar remains undecided, in what order does Your Highness intend to summon these ten tribute scholars during the Minor Proclamation Ceremony?"He raised his eyebrows: "The seven Second Class Candidates shall be summoned in order of their rankings. As for the Top Three Candidates," he paused briefly, "you may arrange them as you see fit, but ensure Meng Tinghui is summoned last."
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