Chapter 22: First Revisit (Part Two)

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Cui Xiu was momentarily taken aback, raising his head with curiosity to scrutinize the “official” who had just called out the distinguished Duke of the Supreme Grade by name. The man had a square face, thick eyebrows, large eyes burning with intensity, and even an expression of vexation tinged with disappointment—as if reprimanding someone for failing to meet expectations. His presence exuded a clear aura of masculine dignity and strength. Not to mention, he was dressed in the imperial embroidered uniform of the Flying Fish Guards, which added an air of noble prestige.

He must be a member of the royal family.

Cui Xiu mused on the unusual examination system—royal kin appointed by the emperor to oversee the imperial exams—and pondered silently.

But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted when his eldest uncle responded succinctly to the official: “Better to endure the cold wind than to have a knife sever you to become a eunuch, right?”

Instinctively, Cui Xiu covered his younger brother protectively.

His uncle, however, pointed sternly: “Did you see that? The sons of the Cui family are ready to face death fearlessly—why fear a little wind and frost? Your Highness, Crown Prince of the Duke of Fortune, you may be precious and noble, but don’t disrupt the process or rules. Otherwise, the censor will report again! If the Cui family is investigated, who will stand boldly in the hall to defend us?”

Cui Xiu heard a hint of sorrow in those words and looked up at the Marquis of Cui En.

His uncle’s smile was chilling, eyes brimming with undisguised disdain. Meanwhile, the previously confident Crown Prince’s face turned a mix of blue and purple, clearly embarrassed.

The surrounding atmosphere fell into a deathly silence.

Other examinees waiting nearby wore varied expressions; some thoughtful, none resembling ordinary schoolchildren.

Observing quietly, Cui Xiu lowered his head to conceal the flicker of fervor burning in his eyes: Having inherited the burdens of the Cui family, he naturally must carry its grudges and grievances.

After all, the worst has already been prepared for by the whole family!

So there was nothing to fear.

With a deep breath, Cui Xiu straightened his posture and forced himself to speak clearly and distinctly: “Please proceed with the inspection, don’t delay the schedule. I have already learned how to dress.”

Among the five of them, he went first, fearing someone might complain that he dressed too slowly.

The Marquis of Cui En, seeing Cui Xiu eager to enter the examination hall, smirked and urged him on as well.

After all, all preferential treatments and favors vanished with the late Martial Emperor’s demise. Under the new emperor, everyone must fend for themselves. He tried to understand the once-admired second elder brother but pleaded with this so-called brother to stop publicly acting as if he was doing him a favor and blocking the Cui family’s path to greatness.

The Crown Prince’s gaze slowly shifted from Marquis Cui En to Cui Xiu, meeting the young man’s solemn expression. Despite his tender age, he appeared mature and steady, as if signaling the continuation of the Cui family line.

Seeing this, the Crown Prince’s eyes darkened. He raised his hand, signaling his guards to conduct a thorough inspection according to procedure: besides checking hair, clothing, trousers, shoes, and socks, the skin must also be examined. Ears and nose were scrutinized to ensure no cheat sheets were concealed.

This procedure, conducted in broad daylight, was intolerable for many.

The Crown Prince lowered his gaze to the composed Cui Xiu.

Cui Xiu remained calm toward the system; after all, the previous era’s exam regulations were far stricter—public inspections even extended to intimate areas to prevent cheating.

Now, inspections were comparatively superficial, only skimming the surface.

Comparing, Cui Xiu deftly smoothed his inner garment, tied his belt, and donned a warm vest. Seeing Marquis Cui En drop his exam basket with a loud clatter, Cui Xiu hurriedly held his shoes and socks, stepping aside.

He sought to buy his incompetent uncle some time to dress.

Watching Cui Xiu’s practiced ease in dressing, Marquis Cui En shook his head—truly the son of Cui Qianting, with no sense of flexibility, ignorant enough to expect servants to help him dress just because he was young.

Sighing, Marquis Cui En felt the countless eyes upon his back as he calmly spread his arms.

There was no shame in publicly undressing here.

After all, when the imperial uncle granted the royal bath, he had to stand naked and humbly have the ministers and generals scrub his back.

A teasing younger brother, indeed.

Parents whispered quietly, watching the expressions of the various princes and noble sons near the Duke of the Supreme Grade, who finally sighed together.

Grandfather, father, uncle, second uncle, third uncle—think about it! How could a pampered playboy ever find a bodily inspection offensive or cause a public disturbance?

He would only flaunt it!

Flaunt it!

The Crown Prince looked at Marquis Cui En, who still dared to turn sideways and display his body to the examinees, then swiftly reached out to adjust his clothing and fasten his belt.

The swift movements left Cui Xiu dumbfounded.

The Crown Prince was even quick enough to tie up Marquis Cui En’s unkempt hair into a high ponytail!

As for himself—

He was just glad his hair was thin enough to tie a small topknot.

He had practiced this hair styling for days.

Touching the few strands that had slipped from his hairband, Cui Xiu’s eyes widened in shock: Even a burly, masculine royal kin could tie such a neat hairstyle.

His hair was naturally black and smooth.

If a mere illegitimate son like him could do this, the family head’s hair must be even more splendid.

Only a deft hand could accomplish this.

So one must learn!

Cui Xiu vowed never to become a eunuch and to strive for the top scholar title.

With determination in his eyes, he clutched his bamboo basket, watching the Duke of the Supreme Grade holding his warm stove, quietly awaiting the inspections of Cui Hu, Cui Cong, and Gao Feng.

After the inspection, an official at the door called out loudly: “Cui Xiu, Marquis Cui En, Cui Hu, Cui Cong, and Gao Feng are all vouched for and searched with no errors. Please grant them official status as stipend students!”

Hearing this, Cui Xiu exhaled slowly, lifting his chin and walking first.

Walking down the straight corridor for about twenty meters, he saw a plump middle-aged man standing up among the stipend students seated on the high platform.

This man was naturally their guarantor, Pei Li, eldest son of Pei Xuejing and cousin of the Pei family’s Confucian scholars.

In short, all under the Cui household.

Originally, the Cui family planned for Cui Qianting to be the guarantor himself, but since Cui Qianting, the young scholar, abandoned the exam and rarely showed up at the government office for roll calls or evaluations, he lost his guarantor qualification.

Only scholars ranked first in this exam could receive government rice subsidies, known as stipend students. Others had to pass government-certified minor exams, with quotas: forty at the prefecture school, thirty at the county school, twenty at the district school.

This was decreed by the Martial Emperor and Grandfather, as the court would not feed idlers.

Hearing “Stipend student Pei Li, guarantee confirmed!” Cui Xiu relaxed slightly.

Having secured their guarantee, they officially entered the exam hall.

Next, candidates would draw their seat numbers.

This on-site drawing was also a process added by the Martial Emperor and Grandfather.

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On the day of the county exam, all royal kin would gather at the ancestral temple to draw lots, determining their assigned examination districts.

Once all examinees had registered their seat numbers, royal kin and the registration records would be escorted back to the ancestral temple by the emperor’s personal guards for offerings, ensuring fairness.

No one would know which seat number corresponded to which candidate, as the county exam only recorded seat numbers, not names.

This procedure applied only in the capital city.

Because, by imperial decree, all sons of officials were assigned districts for the exam. The Martial Emperor had refined the process to ensure openness and strict penalties: any cheating royal kin would be expelled from the royal lineage and executed without mercy; others would face extermination of nine clans.

Thus, official sons’ fathers would rather protect their office than risk meddling with the exam.

This system was excellent!

Cui Xiu reflected silently, standing on tiptoe to draw his seat number from the lot, then respectfully handed it to a young royal kin registering the numbers.

The young man appeared about twenty, holding a warm stove, looking delicate and noble, as if dragged there for hard labor, his face weary.

Without a word, he stamped the royal seal on the bamboo slip and silently recorded it in the registry.

Cui Xiu noticed the seal bore the words “Prince of An Commandery,” clearly a nephew of Emperor Mingde.

Once assured the bamboo slip was the certificate for the results two days hence, Cui Xiu decisively stamped and registered, ignoring Marquis Cui En’s An Commandery Prince, and relaxed slightly.

Better without acquaintances—otherwise, chatting now would surely invite reports.

Feeling grateful, Cui Xiu bowed slowly to his three companions and Gao Feng, then, having found his seat, carried his bamboo basket steadily and purposefully to the assigned spot.

He completely ignored the shock in the eyes of the Cui family and other examinees—this kid didn’t cry or fuss, obediently found his seat, and carried his own basket?

Cui Hu and Cui Cong exchanged glances, drawing strength from his resolute departure, unafraid of the cold, quickly seeking their seats.

Seats were arranged by heavenly stems and earthly branches—each row held fifty people—so it should have been easy.

But this year, over fifteen hundred candidates registered, so two halls were specially designated as exam venues.

Thus, they had to carefully follow paper lantern directions to avoid going to the wrong district.

Marquis Cui En watched his three obedient sons holding their warm stove, yawning slowly as they searched for their seats.

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Following directions, Cui Xiu found seat thirty-five in row A, verified the number on his bamboo slip, then broke into a big smile.

Ignoring curious glances from neighbors, he took a cloth from his exam basket, stood on tiptoe, and vigorously wiped his seat clean.

Then, he used a clean handkerchief to dab the sweat from his forehead, observing that some candidates had yet to arrive and the exam start time was still distant.

Thinking it better to practice than to stare blankly, Cui Xiu rubbed his small hands and removed his hairband.

Recalling what he had learned about hair binding, he combed his hair with a small wooden comb repeatedly, then touched his head to ensure smoothness.

Satisfied, he wrapped his hairband once, twice, tied it tightly, and knotted it.

He fashioned his small topknot again, touched it carefully.

Ensuring no stray hairs escaped, a satisfied smile curved his lips. Then, he leisurely took out his warm stove and lit the silver frost charcoal.

Nearby examinees were baffled.

Was this a four-year-old?

Able to bind his own hair and light fires?

Could this be a wealthy version of a child forced to grow up early?

Many were astonished, but when the gong sounded signaling the start of the exam, they ceased their wandering thoughts and focused on their papers.

Cui Xiu watched the proctors—royal princes and descendants—personally distributing papers, feeling a genuine admiration for the Great Zhou Dynasty.

Though he didn’t understand why princesses lowered their status to become common wives, the royal princes and descendants took their roles seriously, faithfully executing the decrees of the Martial Emperor and Grandfather.

As he wrote on his exam paper within the red-lined box, Cui Xiu carefully filled in his seat number.

His wrist was still weak, and despite skill, he couldn’t write neat small characters, so he aimed only for clarity.

Every stroke was made with all the strength he had, trying to keep within the red lines.

Crossing the line would mean a violation and invalidation.

As he struggled with the last character, a looming shadow fell beside him.

But he had no time to feign childish curiosity—he focused intently on the last character.

Patrolling official Xie Zhongyuan frowned deeply at the six large characters in front of him.

Those six characters were only rough forms, hardly calligraphy, yet they were written by a child of just three years and two months old—thirty-eight months.

Considering the writer’s age, the effort was impressive.

But the problem was that it was a child’s writing, evoking Xie Zhongyuan’s unrestrained pity.

Though Marquis Cui En’s grand entrance had distracted attention from this “token” child,

The boy could dress himself, carry his basket, bind his hair, wipe tables, light charcoal—

Almost none of these tasks should be done by a four-year-old noble son of a duke, a precious young master.

This series of actions made Cui Xiu somewhat… pitiable.

Had the Cui family not trained him from childhood, would he have moved with such grace?

But imperial favor was inscrutable, and today the examinees were all pitiful.

Even the chief examiner was a pitiable figure.

Xie Zhongyuan sighed, glancing at the official holding the lantern and then at the even more pitiable child.

Unaware someone was pitying him, Cui Xiu finished writing his seat number, then devoutly held his brush away from himself, fearing that when thinking over the questions, the brush might suddenly attack him!

As for the “shadow” lingering beside him, he paid no mind—after all, exam rules forbade looking around!

Confident, Cui Xiu clasped his hands in reverence toward the brush, then looked at the lantern raised by the official.

To prevent leaks, exam questions were announced by raising placards on a tour.

The county exam started on site!

There were three questions, the scope matching exactly the previous rules: two essays from the Four Books, and one five-character six-rhyme poem.

However—

Cui Xiu’s eyes widened in shock.

On the placard, neatly written, were the questions:

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1. “A father’s fault if he raises but does not teach.”

2. “Justified and rightful.”

3. “Yellow flowers like scattered gold.”

Blinking, Cui Xiu didn’t notice when the chief examiner had left, staring blankly as he silently massaged his head. He recalled the county exam rules clearly—they were supposed to draw questions from the Four Books.

Why… why was the first question from the “Three Character Classic”?

But this was a familiar saying, teaching that a father must lead by example and teach his child well. Nothing tricky—just quoting classics.

He forced himself to focus on the second question.

“Justified and rightful” came from the Analects, within the exam scope. But combined with current affairs, it was thought-provoking.

After all, the recent affairs at the Duke of Honor’s mansion involved the notion of legitimacy.

And considering the tumultuous ascension of Emperor Mingde, with twists and turns, it too revolved around the concept of “justified and rightful.”

With this in mind, even the first question about the father’s fault seemed to imply Emperor Mingde’s stern decree sending princes to the border.

So—

With reverence, Cui Xiu resolved to stop boasting about past minor triumphs and study earnestly.

Reflecting, he carefully drafted his essays mentally.

When finished, he rubbed his growling stomach, took a Victory Chicken Cake from his basket, and slowly ate it.

Only after eating did he consider the third question.

Honestly, this one was simple—he had taken this exam before!

“Yellow flowers like scattered gold” referred to rapeseed flowers blooming in fields, looking like scattered masses of shining gold.

Had it not been for his tutor’s repeated lessons, he might have thought of chrysanthemums instead.

Unexpectedly, the same trap appeared again.

He wondered if his two elder brothers could answer correctly. Pei Confucius and his father hadn’t mentioned poetry during their last preparations.

Thinking this, Cui Xiu felt restless.

Forcing focus, he picked up his brush and, following his father’s instructions, began writing praises of Emperor Mingde, chanting “Long live Emperor Mingde!” three times.

By then, the sun had risen high.

Yet the sunlight was weak, often hidden behind clouds, leaving the hall chilly even at noon. Without the Cui family’s ample charcoal fires, he wouldn’t have been able to warm his hands.

Hearing a shivering examinee beside him, Cui Xiu gripped his warm stove tightly and glanced at the pale youth.

Judging by appearance alone, the boy was a feeble scholar.

Like Cui Xiu’s previous life—studying day and night, pale to the point of illness, with dark circles under his eyes.

But sympathy aside,

Cui Xiu could neither give nor share his warm stove.

Forcing himself to refocus, he silently recited the Four Books again, recalled the “Seven Stars General,” and nibbled on a brown sugar bun.

When it was time for the front row to leave at the first moment of the Wu hour,

As his uncle put it, this was the crucial moment for the scions of distinguished scholarly families: no genius without a top scholar leaving first!

Feeling moved, Cui Xiu, as agreed, picked up his warm stove and left the exam hall.

At the north gate of the early-exit waiting area, he saw his elder uncle standing out among a group of prodigies.

His uncle was empty-handed, animated and confident, as if destined to take the first prize!

For a moment, Cui Xiu wanted to step away.

But the exam questions emphasized legitimacy!

So he approached his uncle, bowing respectfully.

Marquis Cui En affectionately ruffled Cui Xiu’s crooked topknot. After messing up his hair, he looked at the sulking boy and stopped, then hoisted Cui Xiu on his shoulder and strode outside.

Once outside the exam compound, he laughed heartily.

Startled, Cui Xiu hugged his uncle’s neck, watching his wild expression, and cautiously asked, “Unc… uncle, what’s wrong with you?”

“I can answer everything!” Marquis Cui En boasted. “I was going to submit a blank paper, but surprisingly, I knew all the questions!”

Cui Xiu noticed the prodigies’ footsteps slowing, curious about the uncle who knew all the answers. As a former minor top scholar himself, he was curious too.

“Uncle, I… I can answer them too. I recognize all the characters in the first question, and for the third, I know the words for yellow flowers and gold.”

Other candidates leaving: “………?”

Well, recognizing the questions made him a little genius, right?

“Cui Xiu’s amazing! Let me tell you about the third question,” Marquis Cui En said excitedly, “It was tailor-made for me. Think about how many crab and chrysanthemum parties I’ve attended. If I can’t write a poem about chrysanthemums, what else can I write?”

Cui Xiu: “……….”

Cui Xiu: “……….”

Cui Xiu: “……….”

Casting a sidelong glance at the lingering candidates, he quietly said, “Un… uncle, don’t you think people around us have strange expressions?”

Hearing this, Marquis Cui En swept his gaze over the candidates and pointed a finger: “What? You young ones think I can’t write chrysanthemums?”

“Speak up.”

“Don’t let me show my duke’s power.”

Hearing those last words, a young man stepped forward, bowed, and said confidently, “Respectfully to the Duke, my literary brother and I had some debate. I believe the poem should be about rapeseed flowers, not chrysanthemums.”

“What are rapeseed flowers?” Marquis Cui En asked, utterly puzzled.

Cui Xiu: “………Uncle, you don’t have to be so blunt about your ignorance of grains and lack of hands-on skills!”