Chapter 3

Some of Great Jing's institutions bore an odd resemblance to the early Northern Song, a period Zhao Baiyu knew well. The imperial examination system was still far from mature—there was no dedicated examination hall, so the Ministry of Rites' offices were requisitioned as a makeshift compound each time, and the setting of questions, the arrangement of the halls, the grading of papers, none of it ran with the rigor of later dynasties. Cheating was easy, almost inevitable. And that was precisely how the original novel's first bout of court intrigue had begun.

The book never described the process in detail. All Zhao Baiyu remembered, from the nurse's account back when he was still confined to a hospital bed, was that a candidate who'd failed the exam struck the Petition Drum, accusing someone of selling the exam questions on the open market two days before the Metropolitan Examination. That accusation had ignited the greatest examination fraud scandal of the dynasty.

Of course, the scandal itself wasn't the point. What mattered was what came after: the great purge, the slaughter of factions, the crushing of Prince Qin's faction.

But Zhao Baiyu didn't know the details, had no leads to follow, and by the time he'd woken from his coma the Metropolitan Examination had already begun—the questions were already leaked, and there was nothing left to salvage. All he could do was sit back and let the plot run its course.

As it turned out, he was soon buried too deep in work to dwell on it. The prefectural office managed the affairs, great and small, of one prefecture and twenty-one counties, and the capital was no ordinary posting—seat of the emperor, heart of Great Jing's politics, culture, and economy. There was no room for carelessness.

And of all times, the examinations had to fall now.

Because the previous dynasty had been feckless and inept, the founding years of Great Jing had left the treasury bare and a hundred urgent matters unattended. The court's answer had been to encourage commerce, to revive the economy—and commerce had flourished as never before.

The trouble that came with it was a ward-and-market system, an urban administration, and a body of law that hadn't kept pace—markets, for instance, were still bound by the old rule of opening at dawn and closing at dusk.

The system badly needed reform, but no one had yet worked out a proper administrative scheme or a plan for keeping the peace in the meantime.

And prosperity in trade never came without fraud and collusion trailing behind it.

Broad-daylight swindles and shoddy goods passed off as fine ones were now common occurrences, and there were more than a few cases of officials overseeing the markets who took bribes and slipped free of accountability—only to be stabbed to death in the street by the very people they'd wronged.

So from February clear through to early April, Zhao Baiyu had been run entirely off his feet—if the betrothal gifts from the Commandery Prince's Residence hadn't been carried through the gates of the Zhao residence, he might not even have noticed the time slipping by.

The betrothal letter sat on the edge of his desk, its gilded characters written in a fine cursive hand, naming the wedding date as the eighth day of the sixth month. The signature beneath it was dashed off in a wild, unruly script.

"Huo Jingtang."

The young Commandery Prince's name. The man himself was said to be violent and tyrannical, yet his brushwork flowed with ease, wild and unrestrained, careening forward with a reckless energy that somehow still followed its own inner logic—nothing like the hand of a man who acted without principle. Though, granted, a fine hand proved nothing. Plenty of scheming, treacherous officials wrote beautifully.

"Fourth—oh, no, Fifth Young Master, the list of betrothal gifts from the Commandery Prince's Residence is right here, all counted and stored away in the courtyard storehouse." Yanbing held up a red-bound ledger, his eyes fixed on the inventory as though he couldn't look away. "You didn't even see the treasures with your own eyes! A coral tree five feet tall, carved into the shape of a lion, so lifelike it might roar. A pair of east-sea pearls each the size of a fist. A whole chest of South Sea pearls. Full sets of jeweled and jade hair ornaments. And don't even get me started on the gold and silver... I've lived this long and never once seen so many treasures in one place."

"Fifth Young Master, do you think—sending gifts worth a fortune like this—it means the young Commandery Prince truly values this marriage? That he's especially fond of the one in the main courtyard?"

Yanbing was genuinely worried the young Commandery Prince might feel deceived later, and take it out on Zhao Baiyu.

Zhao Baiyu, in the middle of handling official business, spared a moment to glance at the gift list and found himself startled too. "Did the young Commandery Prince empty out his entire storehouse?"

Yanbing pursed his lips. "This is probably just the tip of the iceberg." He set down a bowl of sweet soup Nanny Xiu had prepared and handed it to Zhao Baiyu. "Our young Commandery Prince comes from no ordinary background. His father may not favor him, but his father is still a bona fide member of the imperial clan—the emperor's own brother, one of the very few princes left standing! And on his mother's side—the First-Rank Duke Who Pacifies the State, the Grand General Who Pacifies the State, one of the founding meritorious officials who followed the sacred ancestor in conquering the realm! The young Commandery Prince's birth mother was the duke's only beloved daughter. They say her dowry procession stretched ten li, from the eastern district clear to the western one—not even a princess gets that kind of send-off."

Zhao Baiyu raised an eyebrow. "That's his background?"

The young Commandery Prince was something of a psychological scar for him, and the original novel he'd read had long since faded from memory—he'd had no idea Huo Jingtang came from such an illustrious family.

"If his family's so formidable, why was he out on the battlefield at twelve, fighting to carve out a future for himself?"

What family in the whole capital could bear to treat a son of their own that way?

"They say Prince Jing—the young Commandery Prince's father—dotes on his concubine and neglects his wife. As for the duke's side, ever since their eldest daughter died in childbirth, they've cut off all contact with the residence. I'd wager they blame the young Commandery Prince for it."

"No wonder."

An unhappy childhood and a poisonous home—both, it seemed, were prerequisites for turning out a monster.

Zhao Baiyu set down the gift list. "Have the inventory copied out in two clean records after it's counted. Take one to Father and Mother."

"What for?" Yanbing asked, puzzled.

"They've given me such an impressive betrothal gift—shouldn't I put together a dowry to match? Besides, Father gave me his word he wouldn't shortchange me on the dowry."

Whether out of comfort or guilt, these days any small request he made was granted without a second thought.

Zhao Baiyu sat with his back straight as bamboo, his bearing composed. He had long since made peace with the matter of standing in as the bride against his will—his heart was calm now, his expression steady. Since he couldn't change how the story unfolded, he might as well squeeze out whatever advantage he could for himself, so that whatever time remained to him could pass in comfort and contentment.

"Right, then!" Yanbing declared, brimming with fighting spirit. "I'll see to it the Zhao residence bleeds itself dry!"

......

Jinhuan Lane was the capital's street of pleasure houses, a row of teahouses and taverns that traded, under a polite name, in flesh—collectively known as flower tea houses.

Early one morning, a shrill scream of terror tore through one such establishment near the moat. The guards came running, boots pounding, and kicked open the door to find a woman collapsed on the floor, her face a mask of horror, and on the bed behind her a man lying dead—struck down without warning.

The lead guard's legs went weak beneath him; he couldn't get a word out.

A young errand boy pushed his way in from behind and, seeing the scene, stammered through chattering teeth, "Quick—someone report this to the authorities!"

The madam came rushing over to stop him, only to have the boy jab a finger in her face. "Do you even know who my master was? He was the adopted son of the Crown Prince's own wet nurse! You've killed my master—and now you mean to cover it up?"

The adopted son of the Eastern Palace's wet nurse?!

Everyone present went pale with fright. The madam fell silent, not daring to interfere further.

......

The next morning, a candidate from Jiangnan struck the Petition Drum, and the sound reached the emperor's own ears.

That same day, at the hour of Si, all one thousand two hundred and ten candidates who had come to the capital for the examinations were summoned to Chuigong Hall, where the Metropolitan Examination was reconvened from scratch—presided over personally by Emperor Yuanshou, with new questions set by the great scholars of the Hanlin Academy. The results would come two days later.

Eighty-one more candidates passed than under the original list, while thirty who had originally placed were now struck from it.

Chuigong Hall fell utterly silent. The ministers stood frozen, not daring to breathe. The Crown Prince and Prince Qin stood apart on opposite sides, both tight-lipped. The examiners responsible for overseeing the exams knelt prostrate on the floor, cold sweat soaking through the backs of their robes, afraid even to draw breath too loudly.

After a long moment, the Chief Eunuch entered first, breaking the rigid, terrible silence, and behind him he respectfully ushered in a man in a purple robe. The man was tall and slender, elegantly built; the purple official's robe set off skin like white jade, and the belt at his waist traced a lean, powerful figure down to long, straight legs. His face was half-hidden behind a finely wrought iron mask, yet what could be seen of his features was striking—brows like distant mountains, eyes like polished glass, a face carved with clean, handsome lines, and about him an air of reckless, unruly grace that seemed to belong to no ordinary mortal.

"Your subject, Huo Jingtang, greets Your Majesty!"

It was none other than the young Commandery Prince of Lin'an, Huo Jingtang.

At the sight of him, the iron in Emperor Yuanshou's face eased somewhat. "Ziyuan. Come and take a look at this."

The Chief Eunuch handed Huo Jingtang the memorial in which the Diarist had recorded the full account of the affair. Huo Jingtang took it and scanned it swiftly, line by line.

"Well?"

Huo Jingtang closed the booklet. "Selecting officials through the examinations, recommending and promoting men of talent—this touches the very stability of the state, the foundation of Great Jing for a hundred years, a thousand years to come. There is no matter graver than this. It calls for severe punishment, to strike fear into the wicked and root out favoritism and backroom dealing. Only then can the foundation of our flourishing age be secured."

"Well said!" Frost seemed to settle over Emperor Yuanshou's face—clearly he had already made up his mind, and had only been waiting for someone to call for severe measures before acting. He pointed at once to the chief examiner, the Minister of Rites, the associate examiner, the Vice Minister of Rites, and the group of candidates found cheating. "Take them into custody at the Court of Judicial Review, pending investigation. Everyone else involved is forbidden from leaving the examination compound as of today, and must remain available for questioning at any time. Ziyuan, I appoint you Chief Minister of the Court of Judicial Review, in charge of investigating the leaked examination questions. The Three Fiscal Commissions will answer to your command, and the Two Chancelleries will cooperate fully—no interference will be tolerated."

"Your subject accepts the charge."

At the mention of their names, the accused candidates and examiners crumpled to the floor. Among the successful candidates, one man suddenly raised his head, his face flooded with terror and worry as he looked toward his father—who was none other than the implicated associate examiner, the Vice Minister of Rites.

Had Zhao Baiyu been present, he would have recognized the man at once as his fellow disciple, Chen Fangrong.

As the officials filed out of Chuigong Hall, they broke into knots of twos and threes, murmuring over the leaked-questions affair—all except Huo Jingtang, who walked ahead alone, eyes fixed straight forward, and soon left the rest of them far behind.

Once the young Commandery Prince's figure had vanished from sight, one of the Crown Prince's attendants remarked, "So arrogant, so unruly, forever currying favor with the throne—and yet somehow he's earned a reputation as an upright official."

"Quiet!" the Crown Prince snapped, but said nothing further.

The others understood well enough: the Crown Prince despised the Prince of Lin'an. The man was like a foul stone lodged in a latrine—no gesture of goodwill, however generous, could win him over. And yet His Majesty trusted and favored him above all, which was reason enough for every prince in the palace to resent the Prince of Lin'an.

Zhao Boyong happened to be passing by just then, and cautioned mildly, "Mind your tongue. It was His Majesty himself who praised the Prince as fit to be called an upright official."

The official who'd spoken out of turn went white as a sheet and turned to bow repeatedly toward Yanfu Hall.

The Crown Prince caught up to Zhao Boyong and asked, "Chancellor, how has Fifth Young Master been keeping, of late?"

Zhao Boyong said, "Does Your Highness mean my son Yuzheng?"

The Crown Prince said, "Naturally."

Zhao Boyong said, "Yuzheng is Fourth Young Master."

"Ah, right!" The Crown Prince laughed at himself. "I nearly forgot Yuzheng's Fourth Young Master now—in a few days there's a polo match, and the prize for the winning side is a fine steed from beyond the frontier. If I recall, Fourth Young Master's polo skills are unmatched in the whole capital, and he's always loved fine horses. Besides, he took some grief from Huo Jingtang a month or so back—this prize should go some way toward chasing off his bad luck."

Just then Third Young Master Zhao Yuqing and Prince Qin came up from behind, and Prince Qin joined in of his own accord. "Huo Jingtang is a strange one, vicious-tempered—Fourth Young Master must have had quite a fright. Let me add a jade ruyi scepter and a piece of coral to the prize, to cheer him further."

Zhao Yuqing said, "Father, this is a good thing! Fourth Brother's been shut up in the residence for over a month now—better he go out and enjoy himself, lest he brood himself into illness."

At the mention of his youngest son, Zhao Boyong's expression softened. "If Fourth Young Master agrees, then so be it."

The Crown Prince and Prince Qin said, almost in unison, "Fourth Young Master will surely be overjoyed!"

No sooner had the words left their mouths than the two exchanged a glance, and a spark of rivalry flickered between them.

......

After the murder, the flower house stood nearly empty of custom. Once the coroner had examined the body, it was confirmed the man had died from an overdose of a mineral aphrodisiac powder combined with certain folk stimulants sold on the side—overexcitement had brought on sudden death. No one was to be held fully responsible for the death itself, but the house's private sale of the excess mineral powder was still a punishable offense.

By rights, the madam ought to have been charged. But she was permitted to pay a thousand taels of silver in lieu of punishment—a redemption fee, so to speak.

Paying out a thousand taels of pure silver would have wiped out every last coin of the house's reserves, and the madam couldn't stomach the loss. So she quietly put word out that she meant to sell off the singing girls of the house, and even sent word directly to her regular patrons. Within a day the news had spread through every circle of dissolute scholars and idle young lords in the capital, and elegant carriages began pulling up outside the house one after another—by evening, the place was as crowded as a marketplace.

Because the girls of this particular house were of the finest quality, and because the capital's famous courtesan Li Yiru was among those being put up for "redemption," the news drew out no end of self-styled connoisseurs of beauty.

Downstairs, the din of voices rose loud and boisterous; upstairs, a cowed silence reigned.

Anyone who climbed the stairs and listened carefully would have caught the thin, broken sound of women weeping—grief upon grief, on and on without end.

The madam pounded her fist against the wooden door and cursed, "What are you little wretches crying about? The men coming tonight all have money and standing—they're here to give you a life of comfort! Don't you dare put on airs like you're some virtuous wife. Given a chance like this, and you still won't take it!"

The room fell silent at once. Satisfied, the madam left. After a while, a faint rustling sound came from within, and a pretty young maidservant crept in on tiptoe. She looked around at the sorrowful faces of the elder sisters in the room, then went straight to the inner chamber, where a graceful woman lay reading on the couch. "Sister Li, I saw the people from Lord Zheng's household in the eastern district carrying in two whole chests of gold. I think he means to have you, no matter the cost."

At those words, the woman inside looked as though she'd just heard news of a parent's death.

Small wonder. Lord Zheng was known for his lechery, and though he held no real power—his official post was purely nominal—he was nephew to the current Imperial Noble Consort. One couldn't say his power reached to heaven, but it was more than enough to deal with a handful of pleasure-house women.

The little maid burst into tears. "Sister Li, please, think of something! Not long ago the girl next door at the other flower tea house was bought by Lord Zheng and taken to his villa outside the city. That very night he invited a pack of his foul friends over to... and that girl hanged herself before morning! I just heard his servants telling someone that their master means to buy you and the other sisters here to entertain his guests—if you're taken, there's nothing left for you but death!"

The girls covered their faces and wept.

Li Yiru turned—dainty brows, a fine oval face, white teeth, red lips, an air as light and cool as a breeze.

"Even my contract of indenture belongs to someone else. What could I possibly do?" Li Yiru spread her ten fingers, stained with ink, and gave a bitter smile. "So many men have called themselves my devoted admirer, sworn me every fine word under heaven—and yet I spent all day writing letters begging for help, and not a single one answered."

Li Yiru sighed softly. "So this is how thin human kindness runs."

A wave of despair spread through the room; a deathly stillness crept over it. The little maid stood helpless, at a loss for what to do.

Suddenly one of the girls spoke up. "If it comes to that, let's just die! Better to dash myself against a pillar and die with some dignity than be tormented to death by degrees!"

The moment she said it, the others murmured their agreement.

Times were hard—what pleasure-house girl didn't suffer for it? And yet even those whose lives were bitterest still struggled to go on living, still clung to whatever life they had. No one wished for death unless every last road had closed before them.

And here they stood, backed to the very edge, with nowhere left to turn.

In the midst of that despairing hush, a woman who dressed hair for the house stepped forward. "I may have a way to save you all."

At those words, the girls seized on her like a lifeline, pressing her at once for the plan. The hairdresser said, "We could write a letter and send it to Zhao Baiyu, the Vice Prefect of the Capital Prefecture, and ask him to buy your freedom."

The excitement on Li Yiru's face and the others' dimmed at once. Who was this Zhao Baiyu, they wondered—why should he trouble himself to redeem them? The Vice Prefect of the Capital Prefecture... an official. And how many good officials were there in this world? Most were men who chased empty fame while feeding off the common people. And even setting that aside—even if this Zhao Baiyu really were a good man willing to help—he was only a minor official of the sixth rank. How could he possibly stand against a man as wealthy as Lord Zheng?

No family standing, no fortune to speak of—how could he possibly win?

They wanted to argue against it, but seeing how firmly the hairdresser had staked her hopes on Zhao Baiyu, and how much faith she clearly placed in this Vice Prefect, and knowing her intentions were nothing but good, none of them could bear to disappoint her.

Reality, they told themselves, would teach her soon enough.

Everyone else stayed silent; only the young, inexperienced maid asked, puzzled, "Who is Zhao Baiyu? Why would he be willing to buy our freedom?"

Swallowing down her excitement and gratitude, the hairdresser saw that the girls didn't believe her, and so she told the story slowly, from the start. "You all know something of my past. At twelve or thirteen I was sold for a few pieces of broken silver to be a child bride for an old bachelor. Then my mother died, and during the mourning period the marriage couldn't be completed. Near the end of the three years of mourning, I still had some pride left in me and didn't want to marry him. He tried to force himself on me, and in desperation, I struck him with a blade. Afterward I turned myself in. Because it counted as killing a husband, by law I should have been sentenced to death."

"The case went up to the Capital Prefecture, and the verdict was all but sealed. But maybe it wasn't my fate to die—Magistrate Zhao, who was a Vice Commissioner at the Capital Prefecture then, happened to see the file and sent the case back for review. He came to see me himself, asked me everything from beginning to end, searched through the statutes, and argued that since I was still within the mourning period, the marriage hadn't legally taken effect—so it wasn't killing a husband at all, only assault. And since I'd turned myself in, the sentence should be lenient."

"But the ruling was overturned again by the Court of Judicial Review, and the original death sentence upheld."

"Magistrate Zhao didn't give up. He went from office to office, pleading the case, and finally persuaded his superior, the Acting Prefect, to bring the matter before the emperor himself and argue on my behalf. In the end, I was granted clemency. Ever since, I've dressed hair for a living and sworn never to marry."

Few people knew the hairdresser's full story, but the case itself had passed by word of mouth through the Capital Prefecture, and even the most hidebound old scholars praised the man who'd pleaded for her as loyal and upright, worthy of being called a great minister.

At the time, everyone had assumed the man who'd staked everything on behalf of one poor, powerless woman was the Acting Prefect himself. It turned out that wasn't so.

A man who speaks up for the common people, who dares to argue on their behalf—that is a good official, the kind of clear-sky magistrate ordinary folk build shrines for while he's still living. And to think he'd done it for a helpless, friendless woman with no one else to turn to—how could anyone not admire that?

Li Yiru sighed. "If Magistrate Zhao steps in to save us, he'll be like a second father and mother to us all."

The other girls chimed in their agreement, one after another.

The hairdresser thought it over a moment, then asked Li Yiru to pick up a brush and write the letter, and hurried off toward the Zhao residence just as the sun was setting.

......

Zhao Baiyu's shabby little courtyard sat in the worst corner of the Zhao residence, close by the back gate, so he always came and went through the back—though the other reason was that the front gate was rarely opened for him at all.

That day, as he was walking home as usual, he spotted from a distance a woman pacing anxiously outside the gate, held back by the guards. As he drew closer, the woman caught sight of him, her face lighting with relief, and made to hurry over—only for Yanbing to stop her sharply.

"Who are you?"

The woman quickly explained her business and held out the letter. "Please, Magistrate Zhao, save the girls of the flower tea house. If Lord Zheng buys them, it's certain death for every one of them."

Zhao Baiyu took the letter, read it through, and said, "Go back and tell your mistress I'll bring the silver, as promised."

The woman's face lit with joy. "Thank you, my lord!"

Once she'd gone, Yanbing frowned deeply. "Buying out every one of them—do you have any idea how much that would cost? Didn't you hear her say the squire carried in two chests of gold? Where would we ever get that kind of money?"

"What do you mean, no money? There's the dowry, the betrothal gifts—just use some of that."

"What? You can't use that money for this!"

"Why not?" Zhao Baiyu tucked his hands into his sleeves, smiling. "Saving lives matters more. Besides, coming into all this wealth so suddenly makes me uneasy—might as well put it toward a good cause."

"Scatter your fortune, avert disaster; do good, and store up virtue for later."

— Author's note —

Ziyuan (子鹓)

鹓 (yuan): a legendary bird resembling a phoenix.