WSMTATMC C149

 

Chapter 149

The examination compound lay in the southeast of the city, and all along the way many candidates were heading that direction; before long, a long queue had formed.

Chen Qingyan and Chen Qinghuai grew anxious. “Why isn’t it moving? Will we miss the time slot?”

Having sat it twice before, Li Bingchen was more experienced and soothed them. “It won’t. The first day is mainly for roll call, body search, then finding one’s cell and checking for leaks.”

Rain was rare in the eighth month, but accidents happened. Two sessions ago there had been a heavy downpour; half the cells leaked, soaking and ruining many papers. Although the court later allowed a retest, it was best to check just in case.

“They don’t issue questions on the first day?” asked Chen Qingyan.

Li Bingwen shook his head. “Six to seven hundred candidates—searching alone takes several hours. By the time everyone is settled, half a day is gone—no time to test.”

“Six or seven hundred?” Chen Qinghuai was surprised.

“That’s on the low side—other years it’s over eight hundred.” Floods had hit many places this year, so fewer sat the exam.

Elder Liang had not come with them; he went first to Elder Lu’s and would join him to watch at the compound.

Near the compound was a tea house run by one of Elder Lu’s disciples; a window room had been reserved. The two stood by the window, looking down at the queue. Stroking his beard, Lu Zhongqi said, “Every provincial exam, seeing these candidates, I feel as if I were back in that year…”

Elder Liang waved him off. “I, for one, don’t wish to return.”

He had sat it once and been removed during the search; even after thirty-some years, the feeling was vivid.

Elder Lu laughed. “Best not mention it. Fewer candidates this year compared to past sessions.”

“In the north they’ve always been fewer than in the south. In Yangzhou prefecture, there were over two thousand one hundred last time—likely more this year.” In prosperous times, talent multiplied and competition grew fierce—tens of thousands for two hundred spots.

Near the end of the Hour of Yín, Wang Ying and the rest pressed through; the Liu family had reserved an upstairs private room, and the party went straight to the second floor.

Qin Furong and her two daughters were already there, peering out the window. The view was excellent; from inside they could see the scholars in line below.

From afar, Wang Ying spotted Chen Qingyan, Chen Qinghuai, the Li cousins, and Liu Changyi. The four stood together, talking of something; their expressions were relaxed—none of the nervousness of an exam.

Upstairs, the women were far more tense. Of the three, Madam Li was most taut—she trembled slightly, clutching Qingyun’s hand and murmuring, “Amitabha—Wenchang Emperor bless my son to take first.”

Qin Furong was calmer; her son was only eighteen—if he didn’t pass now, waiting three years was no loss—and once he finished, the marriage would be set; family first, then career.

Fang Ling felt similar; pass or not, she would return to Shanzhou after the exam. Since the last letter, she had not slept well—always thinking of her daughter’s cough—and wondered if Chen Guang had found the prescription and sent it back.

Wang Ying was anxious too, though less so; his eyes stayed on Chen Qingyan, fearing any mishap.

Around the Hour of Chén, the examination bell tolled—long and sonorous—startling birds from nearby trees.

The candidates in line fell silent; then, by county, they formed up.

Qingyan and Qinghuai, both from Longquan County, found their county’s banner and saw several acquaintances—some from the prefectural academy. After brief greetings, they stood in silence, awaiting entry.

Li Bingwen returned to Tianyang’s line where many old classmates stood; murmurs of the provincial exam ran up and down.

“Heard the academy has several formidable candidates this year—who will take the Jieyuan?”

“You mean that ‘little triple crown’? He’s Elder Liang Liufang’s disciple—this year’s top spot may well be his.”

“Yes, him—and rumor has it his younger brother is brilliant too.”

At the side, Bingwen said nothing, but inwardly thought: both are my cousins—quite proud indeed.

Elsewhere, Liu Changyi stood among the city scholars; he knew most of the young ones, not the older. Some had sat several times without success. The academy allowed only six years—in two failed sessions, no more study there. One elder had sat nearly ten times; hair white, older than Liu’s father. Liu sighed inwardly—at that age, could one still see the fine print? His own master’s eyes were dim—small characters were a blur.

At last, near the Hour of Sì, the compound’s main gate opened.

City scholars entered first by roll call, moving through three main gates. Because of the numbers, there were three entrances and three candidates entered simultaneously for the search.

Upstairs, Qin Furong gripped her handkerchief, eyes fixed on her son. In the next room, Master Liu did likewise; he had invited colleagues, and though his face did not show it, his heart was in his throat—worried lest anything happen during the search. Seeing his son pass within and not be sent out, and the clerk call the next, he finally relaxed.

Searching the city scholars alone took nearly two hours. Two were found with cheats and were expelled—barred from the civil service examinations thereafter. Seeing those two kneeling and weeping, faces went pale down the line. Those who had harbored lucky schemes hurried to throw out or swallow hidden slips lest a later search end their prospects forever.

Only after the city scholars were in did the counties begin.

All Jizhou had seventeen counties. Numbers varied—some with over sixty candidates, some with only seven—nothing like the city’s numbers.

Such was education in the old days—resources pooled in the hands of wealth and power. It was hard for a poor family to produce a noble son; even with a sharp mind, without a teacher to begin one, a man was bound to his plot for life. Thus Qingyan’s gratitude to his master equaled that to his parents. Parents gave life; Elder Liang had helped him along the civil service road—seeking no return—benefiting him for life.

Near the Hour of Sì, Longquan’s turn came. “Longquan County, Qingshui Town—Chen Qingyan,” the examiner called.

“Present!” Qingyan’s clear voice rang out; head high, exam basket in hand, he strode into the hall.

Unlike county and prefectural exams, the provincial search was stricter. A clerk led him into a curtained booth of coarse cloth, told him to remove shoes and socks, unbind his hair, then strip naked.

Yes—underclothes too. Every outlandish rule had an even more outlandish cause. In the Tianwu years, a candidate had written cheats on his inner thigh and, had he not been spotted while relieving himself, would have slipped through. Since then, all provincial candidates stripped for inspection to prevent body-hidden cheats.

After the body search and a thorough turning of garments, Qingyan could dress. Then the exam basket—brush, ink, inkstone—was checked in every corner. Food was not spared; all ten breads were torn open lest notes be hidden inside.

Cleared, he received his number plaque and was sent to his cell. Number 378. Thirty cells a row—that put him in the thirteenth row. In a cup of tea’s time, he found it.

Thank heaven—it wasn’t by the latrines—and even far enough away. A stroke of luck!

Though the eighth month was cooler, six to seven hundred men in the compound for nine days—eating, drinking, sleeping within. Urine buckets were bearable; for bowel movements, one must go to the toilets. Over time, dung piled like small hills; fermenting stench was like a chemical weapon—eye-watering and nose-scorching. In past sessions, some assigned to “stink cells” had fainted and had to forfeit; even if one didn’t faint, it was hard to perform.

Qingyan set down his basket and inspected the cell. All were alike—three to four square meters, a two-foot-wide, six-foot-long plank down the middle. By day, it served as a desk; by night, moved to the rear, it became a simple single bed. A wooden stool stood by; he sat to test it—steady enough.

That stool had a cautionary tale. In his second provincial try, Cousin Bingwen’s stool had a lame leg. He hadn’t checked; sitting during the test was torture—he had to brace his core to keep balance, and by the sixth day he could hardly continue—thus his poor showing.

After the stool, Qingyan checked the ceiling. He’d heard the compound had repaired the cells and replaced the tiles; it seemed sound.

Qinghuai entered after and took cell 382—four down from his brother—and, like him, carried out a careful inspection as the cousin had taught.

All checks done, they sat quietly, waiting for those behind to enter.

Longquan was one of the nearer counties; those after likely wouldn’t line up until afternoon. Seeing the two within, Madam Li and Fang Ling finally relaxed. The party ate lunch at the tea house and went home to wait.

In these nine days, the candidates suffered within; their families agonized without. Wang Ying left Ershun at the compound to keep watch—if anything happened or someone was sent out, he could respond at once.

 

Here are all traditional “double-hour” references mentioned, with their approximate modern times for clarity:

• Yin hour (寅时): roughly 3:00–5:00 AM; appeared when noting “near the end of Yin” as the crowd reached the tea house before the exam queue formed
• Chen hour (辰时): roughly 7:00–9:00 AM; the compound bell tolled around this time to organize candidates by county lines. 
• Si hour (巳时): roughly 9:00–11:00 AM; Longquan County candidates, including Chen Qingyan, were called to enter and undergo searches around this time 
• Wei hour (未时): roughly 1:00–3:00 PM; earlier, a meal “finished at Wei” was mentioned at the start of one chapter. 
• Hai hour (亥时): roughly 9:00–11:00 PM; referenced previously for late-night scenes and rest (deep night).