Purely by Accident – Chapter 29
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And now we were all waiting for the results of the imperial examination to be announced.
To tell the truth, I was a little apprehensive. Although the empress dowager had lavished quite a few words of praise on me at our first — and so far, only — meeting, the fact that she’d found me acceptable did not necessarily mean that she looked favourably on me as a future grandson-in-law. As for the elusive chief examination officer she was said to know, I hadn’t even caught a single glimpse of him; this did not provide me with much in the way of reassurance. And as for the essays I’d handed in, well, it was true that Little Tiger had been regarded as a promising scholar in our youth. But so many years had passed since then, and there was no guarantee that the promising young scholar of yesteryear had not succumbed to the curse of mediocrity in the intervening period. Besides, candidates from provinces all over the empire other than Yinzhou had been present, and there were bound to be some talented scholars among them. And so, during this period of waiting, I did not feel particularly optimistic about my ability to cut a swath[1] through my legion[2] of competitors and emerge victorious.
Of course, I couldn’t show any of these emotions, especially not in front of the princess. She, for her part, appeared perfectly serene and completely self-assured. I wasn’t sure whether it was because she had complete (too much?) confidence in me, or whether she really did have everything perfectly in hand, and therefore no cause for concern whatsoever. To avoid gossip, she even instructed that the comings and goings between our two residences should be kept as infrequent as possible before the results were announced. She seemed so completely unperturbed that I felt there really was no excuse for me — as the ultimate decision-maker of the Heiyun Brotherhood and therefore a leader of some stature — to be so anxious over the outcome of the imperial examination. Besides, now that I finally had the time to sit down and think it over, I felt that I had not hitherto cut a particularly commanding figure in front of the princess. If I carried on in this way, the prospects of my ever being to ‘overpower the princess’ — as that good-for-nothing Xu Ziqi had put it in his letter — were dim indeed. So I gritted my teeth and forced myself to put on a show of perfect composure, humming ‘it’s fine’ as I drifted through main hall and rear courtyard and garden and corridor, when all the while my heart was burning with anxiety.
Anxiety seemed to be one of those emotions that were most readily contagious. Once the imperial examination was over, Silly Girl could no longer use ‘studying with Young Master Wei’ as an excuse for visiting my residence frequently, and once the princess had issued her edict, Silly Girl’s sacred path to her true love was cut off completely. She and Rahul were as the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl,[3] reduced to yearning for each other from afar without being able to share a single embrace. It was heartbreaking even to contemplate. Every day I would see Rahul lurking by the front gates, gazing forlornly in the direction of the princess’ manor like the famous husband-watching rock.[4] This stirred a great wave of compassion within me, and I took it on myself to give him some kindly advice. If he wished to become a man of substance, I suggested, he would do well to establish himself in his career before taking a wife. Rather than waiting in agony every day in hopes of a single glimpse of Silly Girl, why not put the time to better use by immersing himself in his culinary studies? Once he had distinguished himself in his field, he would have the wherewithal to seek Silly Girl’s hand in marriage.
Rahul blinked those big eyes at me, but did seem to take my advice to heart. Transforming his anxiety into culinary inspiration, he came up with a new dish called the beef curry of yearning, which blended the flavours of his homeland with his heartfelt affection for Silly Girl. Everyone at the residence who sampled it found themselves turning misty-eyed, as thoughts of their faraway hometowns, distant families and absent lovers came surging up. And thus, not only did Rahul’s creation elevate the average standard of our meals considerably, it also spread a pall of melancholy over the entire residence. Steeped in this atmosphere, my anxiety reached its boiling point.
When the lone osmanthus tree that stood forlornly in the garden began to put forth blossoms whose faint fragrance wafted effortfully through the air,[5] the royal proclamation listing the names of candidates who had been successful in this year’s imperial examination was finally published.
The day dawned dull and gloomy. The sun was hidden by heavy clouds, and the sky looked like an ink painting in which too much white space had been left. I spent quite some time pacing up and down my room, flicking my fan open and shutting it again so many times that the frame was on the verge of falling apart, before finally deciding to slip out quietly to the examination hall and look upon the royal proclamation that would seal my fate.
I wove through the garden, made my way down a corridor, and saw a sweat-drenched Zheng Hao rushing towards me. I’d previously only witnessed how deft his hands were, and it was only now that I realised that the swiftness of his legs was a match for the nimbleness of his fingers. Indeed, in the few moments it took me to appreciate this fact, Zheng Hao was practically on top of me. Unable to stop himself in time, he crashed straight into me, and I had to reach out to hold him steady.
Zheng Hao grabbed hold of my arm and stood panting heavily. He seemed to want to tell me something. His usually pale little face was so deeply flushed that it looked almost purple.
I patted him on the back, helping him catch his breath. ‘Why are you in such a hurry, Xiao Hao?’ I asked curiously. ‘Where are you rushing off to, your reincarnation?’
He shook his head vehemently, and his grip on my arm tightened until it felt like a vise. Those bright, limpid eyes of his were filled with an emotion that seemed now like sorrow, now like joy. ‘Y-young master, you… I… pr-pr-pr…’
Pr-pr-pr…? My mind whirled through the many possible words which began with that syllable, and fell on — what? Pregnant? Who was pregnant?
The excitement on Zheng Hao’s face held a certain degree of surprise, and the surprise itself contained a trace of worry. Had the dullness of our residence led him, in a moment of madness, to commit the ultimate act of forbidden passion with one of the cooks, and sent some tiny soul roaring towards its next reincarnation? ‘It’s all right, Xiao Hao,’ I said comfortingly, softening my expression. ‘This is a good thing, a good thing indeed. It means, er, it means you’re all grown up. Don’t be scared. This residence of ours might not be exactly the heart of the capital’s social life, and it’s a little poor besides, but I’m sure we can still afford to support an extra child.’ I paused, glanced at his stunned expression, and went on, ‘Still, it wouldn’t be good for the child to be born illegitimate. Tell me, which one of the cooks is it? I’ll speak to the princess and ask her as your liege lady to arrange for you two to be married. Let’s get this settled as soon as possible, eh?’
Zheng Hao’s breathing had calmed, but he was still staring at me in befuddled silence.
I patted him on the head almost maternally. ‘Look at the boy. He’s so overjoyed that he’s gone completely speechless. Ah, there’s no need to thank me!’
Zheng Hao tilted his head in the direction of my hand, then a sudden look of understanding dawned on his face. His eyes went as wide as saucers. ‘N-no, n-not me, y-young master,’ he hastened to explain, his voice both urgent and a little indignant. ‘I-it’s you, y-your… pr-pr-pr…’
He paused at this crucial point. Reflexively my hand went to my stomach as I tried to recall whether I might have, in a fit of forgetfulness, committed that sinful act of procreation with some unknown man.
Luckily Zheng Hao soon found his voice again. Gesturing for emphasis, he went on, ‘Y-young master, y-your name… th-there… o-on the pr-pr-proclamation!’
It was a stumbling, garbled sentence, but I managed to catch its meaning well enough. Zheng Hao was telling me that my name — the name of Wei Zisong — was displayed proudly on the royal proclamation as one of the successful candidates!
The clouds parted; the sun shone over all the land. The pent-up anxiety in my heart finally found release. Bit by bit, it was replaced by happiness and peace of mind. Thousands of words spun through my head, and coalesced into a single heartfelt exclamation: Thank Heaven, thank Earth, and thank my rescuer Lin Haiyuan.
Later that day, I found myself sitting in state in the main hall. Standing before me were the four officials who had come to make the formal proclamation of my success. They were dressed colourfully in their court robes, and in keeping with the festive nature of the occasion, they carried gongs and drums. Their leader, a goateed man with an air of celebration about him, held a tray on which lay a brand-new set of court robes. He dipped his head courteously to me and smiled. ‘Felicitations, Young Master Wei. With your outstanding scholarship and exceptional literary talent, you have surpassed a great many of your competitors in this year’s imperial examination, taking third place and thus winning the title of tanhua.[6] Your humble servant congratulates you, Your Excellency!’
Ah, tanhua: seeker of flowers. A most romantic title indeed, and with more than a hint of rakishness to it. I smiled at him, utterly delighted.
The goateed official, however, made no move to offer my new court robes to me; his hands remained perfectly steady on his tray. Was he expecting me to go up to him and fetch them myself? I wondered. Putting down the fan I was holding, I stood up, then paused when Rahul tugged at my sleeve and leaned close to my ear. ‘Young master,’ he whispered, ‘he’s waiting for you to give him a tip.’
Oh, was this the custom? That put me in a bit of a spot. While the princess and I were indeed, as they put it, ‘seeing each other’, this residence was still her personal property. Until we were married, it did not seem right for me to appropriate any of the possessions within it for my own use.
Picking up my fan again, I tapped it against my head and called out, ‘Servants! Collect my new court robes from His Excellency here. Your Excellencies, you must all be fatigued after your journey here. Please take a seat and allow me to offer you some tea!’
The goateed official’s smile crumbled. He handed the court robes to the servant who had gone up to fetch it. Then he announced as tonelessly as if he were reciting a lesson from memory, ‘His Majesty commands the three top scholars from this year’s imperial examination, zhuangyuan[7] Yang Enming, bangyan[8] Lin Haiyuan and tanhua Wei Zisong, to present themselves at the palace on the first day of the eighth month.’
Once he’d finished saying his piece, he departed swiftly with his three colleagues in tow, not sparing me a further glance. Fine, I thought, curling my lip. It even saves me some tea leaves. However, this summons from my future father-in-law filled me with a great deal of trepidation indeed.
Three days passed, then it was the first day of the eighth month. A eunuch from the imperial household turned up early in the morning to announce that my conveyance to the palace was ready, and chivvied me to finish washing and dressing as soon as possible. Amid the bustle of preparation, I managed to steal a couple of good long looks at him, and quietly overturned my prior conclusion that Zheng Hao resembled a eunuch.
I stepped out of the main gates and into the waiting sedan chair. After a rather bumpy journey, we arrived at our destination, and I saw that two other sedan chairs were already there. I climbed out and came face to face with Lin Haiyuan. ‘Morning, Xiao Lin Zi!’ I greeted him rather awkwardly.
Lin Haiyuan looked very ill at ease. Luckily, the occupant of the third sedan chair — clearly the zhuangyuan of this year’s imperial examination — turned out to be a rather affable fellow. He came up to me and cupped his hands before his chest in greeting. ‘You must be this year’s tanhua. Greetings, Wei xiong. My name is Yang Enming.’
Hurriedly I returned the gesture, and nodded at him. This year’s zhuangyuan seemed rather older than Lin Haiyuan and me, and the belt of his court robes was barely capable of restraining his ample belly. I had just managed with some difficulty to tear my eyes away from that impressive paunch when Yang Enming continued, ‘Judging by your greeting just now, Wei xiong, you and Lin xiong must know each other?’
Ah, he’d managed to place his finger right on our collective sore spot.[9] I gave a hollow little chuckle and replied, ‘Yes, Lin xiong and I both hail from Yinzhou province. We’re old acquaintances and former classmates.’
Beside me, Lin Haiyuan’s face took on a pained look.
Yang Enming went up to him and clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Ah, Yinzhou must be a remarkable place indeed, to have produced two such successful scholars in the same year!’
The corner of my mouth twitched, and my throat went a little dry.
Luckily, a eunuch soon came to lead us to the emperor. We entered the palace through a side gate, and found ourselves in the imperial garden. It was already the beginning of autumn, but no trace of seasonal wilt could be seen anywhere. Flowers bloomed in profusion, and the scent from the blossoming osmanthus trees drifted through the air.
Beside me, Yang Enming whispered, ‘I hear His Majesty intends to choose a husband for the Eldest Princess from among this year’s successful candidates. I wonder who among us will be fortunate enough to gain that particular favour.’
He puffed out his stomach confidently as he spoke, seeming completely sure that he himself would prove to be the ‘fortunate soul’ he had just spoken of.
I felt immediately scornful. The next moment, however, I reflected that I was the one who’d made the princess’ acquaintance before this, and that I’d sat for the imperial examination with the sole aim of gaining her hand in marriage. The whole arrangement was essentially a conspiracy in my favour, and knowing this, I couldn’t help feeling a little guilty.
Possibly because he had noticed the discomfort in my expression, Lin Haiyuan gave my sleeve a little tug. When I turned, he gave me a long, meaningful look and said, ‘Zisong, don’t worry.’ His face was perfectly calm.
Quite what he wanted me not to worry about, I didn’t know, nor did I have the time to work it out, because at that very moment, a figure clad all in black, its face obscured by a veil, leaped down from a parasol tree just beside our path. A sharp, snow-bright sword came straight at me.
I shoved Lin Haiyuan aside and managed to dodge the blow. The black-clad figure attacked again in a flurry of strokes, each more vicious than the last. I stilled my mind, focusing all my attention on warding off their attacks, and settled in for a protracted fight.
Behind me, Yang Enming screamed, ‘Guards! There’s an assassin!’
Ever since leaving Mount Yanluo, I hadn’t had much of an opportunity to exercise my fighting skills. Now this ambush was allowing me to put them to full use, and I found myself relishing the exertion. I evaded another slash of the attacker’s blade — though just barely — and was just wondering why not a single imperial guard had made an appearance after all this time, even though these vast gardens must be teeming with them, when I caught sight of a man a short distance away. He was standing on a veranda that overlooked a lake, and smiling. A breeze ruffled his bright yellow robes, which were embellished prominently with dragons.
The sight shook me to the core. The black-clad figure swung at me again, and this time I couldn’t get out of the way in time. The tip of the sword grazed my chest, slicing open my court robes with a snick. I only frowned, however. This seemed to surprise the attacker somewhat, and they hesitated. I took advantage of the moment to vault onto the veranda, straightening my robes hastily as I knelt before the man who stood there. ‘Your humble servant Wei Zisong greets you, Your Majesty. May Your Majesty live for ten thousand years! Alas, your humble servant is unworthy, and has found himself no match for such a skilled member of the imperial guard.’
My head was down, so all I could see was the hem of those bright yellow robes. A pattern of dragons had been woven into the fabric itself, and the craftsmanship was exquisite. The robes twitched slightly, then their wearer said above my head, in mild, gentle tones, ‘So you are Wei Zisong.’ There was a smile in his voice.
Yang Enming and Lin Haiyuan rushed up and knelt down beside me.
‘You may all rise,’ said the emperor.
I stood up, dipping my head slightly towards him. The emperor walked up to us, halted right in front of me, and looked me carefully up and down. ‘Wei Zisong,’ he said. ‘Just as I expected, you’re a valiant young hero indeed.’
Oh, the empress dowager must have praised me to the emperor’s face, then. That meant the sudden appearance of the ‘assassin’ this afternoon must have been a test set by His Majesty himself. I broke into a cold sweat at the thought.
The emperor went on, ‘The three of you are some of the brightest talents of our time, selected through the imperial examination. My eldest daughter greatly values such talent.’
And now he was going to name her prince consort, I thought. The corners of my lips were just curving upwards into a smile when I caught Lin Haiyuan giving me a strange look. The next moment, he had stepped hastily forward and fallen to his knees again with a thud. ‘Your humble servant Lin Haiyuan has long been an admirer of the Eldest Princess. As I have been privileged enough to be admitted to the palace as the bangyan of this year’s imperial examination, I now make so bold as to seek Her Highness’ hand in marriage. Your humble servant begs Your Majesty to grant him this wish!’
Yan Enming and the emperor were both staring at him, taken aback. I, too, was completely taken aback. What was Xiao Lin Zi playing at today?
I scrutinised his expression. He looked utterly miserable, but there was also a touch of steely righteousness about it, as if he were a proud martyr on his way to his execution. Then I recalled the ‘don’t worry’ he’d said to me earlier, and felt as if a thunderbolt had flashed through my mind, bringing with it both light and the metaphorical smell of char.
The fool! Was he worried that, if I were to be named prince consort, that would put to an end to the cut-sleeve romance whose ardour he’d witnessed the other day by the entrance to the examination hall, and so had decided with bitter determination to sacrifice himself?
I was completely dumbfounded. How could I explain to him that the ‘young gentleman’ he’d seen me with the other day was none other then our dear princess herself?
I was still floundering when Yang Enming, too, fell to his knees with a thud. ‘Your Majesty, your unworthy servant Yang Enming also seeks the Eldest Princess’ hand in marriage! Your humble servant will remain steadfast in this resolve, till the seas run dry and the rocks crumble!’[10]
What was going on? I saw a vein throb visibly in the emperor’s forehead, and found myself feeling rather amused.
The emperor looked at the two men kneeling before him, then at me, and raised an eyebrow. ‘My daughter is very much in demand, I see,’ he said, with another smile. ‘But what can I do about it? I sought her views on the matter before coming here, and she, with her usual refreshing forthrightness, told me that she will have no husband except Wei Zisong.’
The sun shone brightly down on us. Joy bloomed in my heart like a bud quietly unfurling its petals into full flower.
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Footnotes:
- In Chinese, the chengyu 披荆斩棘, literally ‘cut one’s way through thistles and thorns’, meaning to overcome many obstacles. [return to text]
- In Chinese, the chengyu 多如牛毛, literally ‘as numerous as the hairs of an ox’. [return to text]
- On the tale of the Cowherd and the Weaver Girl, see footnote 10 to Chapter 8. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 望夫石. This may refer to any one of several rocks scattered throughout mainland China and Hong Kong. There are several versions of the legend with which this type of rock is associated, but they all involve a faithful wife watching daily from a high mountain for the return of her husband (who, depending on the tale, may be a soldier on campaign, a fisherman out at sea, or gone to Southeast Asia to seek his fortune). The wife waits in vain (in many accounts the husband is dead), and she is turned into a rock either by effluxion of time or by divine forces (in the latter case, as a reward for her faithfulness, to allow her spirit to reunite with that of her husband). [return to text]
- Osmanthus trees bloom in the autumn. This therefore serves as a temporal indicator. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 探花, literally ‘flower seeker’, the title for the third-ranked candidate in the imperial examination. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 状元, literally ‘top thesis author’, the title for the first-ranked candidate in the imperial examination. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 榜眼, literally ‘eye of the list,’ the title for the second-ranked candidate in the imperial examination. [return to text]
- In the original text, 哪壶不开提哪壶, literally ‘to pick up whichever kettle is not boiling’. The saying refers to a person who says or does something that should not be said or done in front of someone else, e.g. bringing up a sensitive subject. [return to text]
- In Chinese, 海枯石栏, meaning until the end of time. [return to text]
douqi 随笔 