HE With the Cold Male Protagonist C58

Chapter 58: The Exam Day Turmoil, Who Is Lord Qingyuan

It was only at the fifth watch, the sky barely light, yet the examination yard was already crowded with people—those escorting examinees, those taking part, a tide of humanity pressing in all directions.

Madam He, ever anxious, asked, “Lizhi, have you brought everything? Here, I have two fresh egg pancakes. Take them along—so you won’t go hungry at noon.”

Before setting out, Lu Lizhi had already checked his exam basket several times. Inside were three writing brushes, two inkstones, dry rations, a few boiled eggs, as well as some medicine to prevent illness, deodorizing incense, and cotton to block his ears—precautions learned from past experience.

Most importantly, since the water in the hall was not clean, and many fell ill after drinking it, he carried a bamboo flask filled with fresh water.

Fortunately, the prefectural examination was not like the later ones that lasted several consecutive days. The main session was only one day. Afterward, about twice the intended number of students would be listed, and three days later, those candidates would sit for the re-examination. Only then would the quota be fixed and the anshou (first-ranked candidate) decided.

At that point, those who passed became shengyuan, granted official scholar status and entry into the gentry class, with special privileges. If one placed in the first tier, as a linsheng, one even received a monthly stipend of grain from the government. That was a wholly different matter from farming or buying one’s own food.

Lizhi thought of his late father, who had regretted not achieving the “Little Three Primes” rank. He thought, too, of Jiang Baiye, who always protected him. Now it was his turn to be Baiye’s shield.

From every angle, this time he must contend for anshou!

As Lizhi moved forward with the crowd, Madam He and Jiang Dazhu were both torn between joy and worry. “We never imagined we would one day stand here. Though Chang Sui¹ never achieved it, at least Lizhi now fulfills our dream.”

For how many parents was this the dearest of wishes! Even though the result was not yet known, they felt a blind confidence—toward Baiye, toward Lizhi.

Village Head Wang sighed. He had witnessed all of Lizhi’s toil, the sleepless nights, the burden of his family’s hopes. If Lizhi did not achieve the best, Wang feared how far his stubborn nature might drive him.

Luckily, at his side stood the free-spirited Baiye.

“Hm? Where’s Baiye?” Wang suddenly realized he had not seen him. Madam He and Jiang Dazhu also looked around nervously. “Could he have been pushed away in the crowd?”

“How could that be? With his size, he’s the one pushing others!”

At last, they found him squatting by the roadside, chewing on a pancake. To those who knew him, he was the master of a flourishing workshop, earning hundreds of taels a day.

To those who did not, he looked more like a vagabond beggar—sitting so casually, eating heartily, watching others’ nervousness with amusement.

Madam He was at a loss—while they were fretting themselves sick, this fellow was all cheer!

Baiye was delighted not to be the one sitting the exam. In his modern life, he had been ground down by endless tests—from elementary school to university, countless major and minor exams, midterms, finals, mock tests. Even in university, he had been forced to prepare for graduate exams.

He was never especially gifted, relying on hard effort to learn. Each exam had nearly cost him his life.

And here in this ancient world, the examinations were harsher still. In modern times, one could fail and still find another path. But here, the imperial exam was the sole road to advancement. Even a man who carved his way to office through bloodshed was mocked as a crude illiterate.

In the hierarchy of scholar, farmer, artisan, merchant, his own merchant standing was lowest of all.

“Don’t worry. Lizhi will definitely score well!” Baiye declared with certainty. His confidence soothed the family. Compared with other escorts wringing their hands, they were immeasurably more relaxed.

Meanwhile, Lizhi, after meeting Ding Lihui and his companions, found himself confronted by the students of Qingsong Academy on one side and those of Mingli Academy on the other. Wolves before, tigers behind—each regarded him with hostility.

His gaze passed over the center of the throng, where more and more gathered about one figure, even now not diminished in their fervor.

It was Lu Qinghong.

With a solemn and dignified air, he projected an aura of profundity.

Lizhi, however, found it laughable. Qinghong dared not admit the truth, so he played at neither confirming nor denying. When unmasked, he could claim he had never said he was Lord Qingyuan, leaving himself a retreat.

But the allure of the name “Lord Qingyuan” was a trap from which he could not extricate himself.

“Qinghong, you must have earned much silver of late, though I know you are not short of money,” Yu Zhijie remarked, curious and envious.

Once, with Jiang Yueming, their status had been equal. His family had even outshone Jiang’s, and Jiang had deferred to him. But before Lu Qinghong, he was nothing.

Yet because of “Lord Qingyuan,” he felt both jealousy and worship—a tangle of emotion.

Qinghong only hushed him. “Be quiet, it is about to begin.”

At that moment, several men pushed through the crowd, causing a stir.

“It’s Shopkeeper Ning of Yongyuan Bookstore! Why is he here?” For every scholar in Xuanhe Prefecture knew him—through Lord Qingyuan and his storybooks.

He alone knew Qingyuan’s identity—why, even as ashes, he would still recognize him!

The commotion puzzled some from other counties. But upon hearing the name “Lord Qingyuan,” they understood at once, their excitement matching the others’.

They could not afford the printed books, but they had copied them word by word. Many dreamed of buying one to treasure when they had the means.

Now, seeing Ning himself—so close to Qingyuan—they looked at him with awe and reverence.

Soon another stir—

“Elder Yi is here too! I heard he canceled his storytelling today. Why would he come?”

“Could it be…?”

“Hiss—Lord Qingyuan is among us?”

The crowd roared with speculation. Even the anxious forgot their nerves.

“And the master of Hànmò Pavilion is here too!” Yu Zhijie gasped, unable to suppress his own excitement. These men, lately so famous across the prefecture, had all arrived together.

All minds leapt to the same thought—

“Qinghong, they must be here to escort you!”

Qinghong faltered, palms damp with sweat. He searched frantically, yet saw no one resembling Lord Qingyuan. Still, in his heart, he doubted such talent could belong to a mere student.

But then he remembered—he had met them all. Perhaps they had indeed come for him.

And they walked directly his way.

Mingli Academy’s students, thrilled, whispered, “Qinghong, won’t this expose you?”

“Never mind! Let all the prefecture see—our Mingli Academy produced Lord Qingyuan!” Some were radiant with pride, as if basking in borrowed glory.

Others, too, fixed their gaze on Ning and his companions. Had it been only one of them, they might have thought he came for a relative.

But all three together—unless for Lord Qingyuan, for whom?

“Wait—are they going to Mingli Academy? Or Qingsong Academy? Their masters and deans are here too—could it be among them?”

One who had once seen Lord Qingyuan in Hànmò Pavilion spoke cautiously, “Do not speculate. He values low profile. Better not to disturb him.”

“Yes, Lord Qingyuan does not seek fame. He preserves his spirit for creation. If troubled by acclaim, he could not write so well.”

This was precisely the effect Qinghong desired. Not too ostentatious, yet within a circle of honor.

At that moment, cloaked in glory, he basked in the unprecedented spotlight!

Mingli’s whispers made Qingsong restless. They, too, had heard rumors that Qinghong was Qingyuan. Some believed, some not. The rumor had subsided.

Now desire rose in them.

If only Qingyuan belonged to their academy! Their prestige would soar, their students respected, their name forever remembered.

While all awaited eagerly, Ning wiped his brow. “At last, we’ve found him!”

“Too crowded—I told you we should have come earlier. Nearly missed it,” Elder Yi complained.

By now, they stood before Qinghong. Mingli’s students were ready to hail him, but suddenly, Ning turned.

Before all eyes, when everyone thought he would address Qinghong, he smiled instead at another.

“Forgive me—I overslept. Nearly missed seeing you off to the exam!”

Lu—Lu Lizhi? That mute?

“What’s this!?”

“How outrageous! To snub Lord Qingyuan for a mute? Can a mute reply?” some protested.

Among scholars, rank and learning demanded respect. A former scholar like Ning could not but know this.

But he did it deliberately.

Inwardly, he rejoiced—at Qinghong’s pale face behind him—and lavished his blessings on Lizhi.

“This year’s anshou will surely be you. The Little Three Primes await—we’ll be ready to drink in celebration!”

Elder Yi even offered advice. “The prefectural exam? With your talent, it is nothing.”

Mingli: “?”

Qingsong: “!”

The dean of Qingsong, however, seemed unsurprised, his expression stricken with pain.

Others might still doubt, but he, who had once studied Lizhi’s works, who had been captivated by his brilliance—he had long known.

Now it was merely confirmed.

He thought of how, forced by circumstance, he had abandoned Lizhi. Now, Lizhi stood undiminished—while Qingsong had lost immeasurably.

The dean clutched his chest. He could not contain it. With a spurt of blood, he collapsed.

Footnotes

1. Little Three Primes (小三元) – a prestigious achievement of placing first in three successive levels of exams (county, prefectural, provincial). 
2. Anshou (案首) – the first-place scorer in a round of examinations. 
3. Linsheng (廪生) – scholars of the highest tier within the shengyuan class, entitled to government stipends of grain.