Chapter 2: First Place at the County Exam

The light of dawn was still pressed low beneath the eaves, the window paper of the west wing letting in a blue-gray hue. Chen Baosheng nudged the oil lamp to the corner of her desk, afraid the smoke would ruin the paper. It was an old brush with a worn tip; she dipped it into the inkstone twice, then set the first stroke down.

The door was kicked open.

Not pushed—kicked. The wooden door slammed against the wall, bounced back, and was held fast by a hand.

“Yo—”

Chen Baochai stood just outside the threshold. A silver hairpin nestled by her ear, her cloak still on, she was flanked by two maids—one carrying a lantern, the other holding a hand warmer.

“Lighting a lamp before dawn? Trying to pass the Zhuangyuan (Top Scholar) test?”

Chen Baosheng didn’t look up. The brush tip finished drawing a horizontal line.

“Sister rose early, too.”

“Early as I am, I’m helping Mother with household affairs.” Chen Baochai stepped inside, her shoe soles scuffing against the blue brick floor. “You’re up early just to waste lamp oil.”

She walked to the desk, looking down at the paper.

On the sheet sat lines of small regular script, horizontal and vertical, neat as if carved in stone.

The corner of Chen Baochai’s mouth twitched, then curled down. “What is this?”

“*The Admonitions for Women*.”

“*The Admonitions for Women*?” Chen Baochai let out a short, sharp laugh. “You’re copying *The Admonitions for Women*? Who do you think you are to read such a thing?”

“Copying it for Mother.” Chen Baosheng set down the brush and slid the paper aside by half an inch. “Master Jingci at the temple wants thirty copies. Mother promised them, but no one in the household would do the work. So I did. The page in your hand is the twenty-seventh. Three more to go, and they need to be delivered tomorrow at dawn.”

Chen Baochai’s hand froze in mid-air.

She looked down. The page was indeed the end of “Section Four: Women’s Conduct,” with a marginal note in her mother’s casual handwriting. She recognized it.

One of the maids behind them coughed softly.

Chen Baochai’s face flushed. She snatched the stack of papers.

“Tear them up if you want! Dare you use Mother to pressure me?”

The sound of tearing was crisp. Thirty pages of manuscript, torn in half, then into quarters. Paper scraps fell around the inkstone; one stuck to the still-wet ink.

Chen Baosheng watched the scrap. She didn’t move.

“Sister tore them up with such satisfaction,” she said. “But if Master Jingci asks tomorrow, I can’t lie. I’ll just say the eldest daughter tore them.”

“Dare you?”

“I don’t dare.” Chen Baosheng raised her eyes. “But if the Master asks, I have to answer. If you want me to stay silent, you’d better go tell Mother that *you* tore them. Then I won’t say a word.”

Chen Baochai’s fingers tightened, nails digging into her palms.

The maid holding the hand warmer leaned in and lowered her voice: “Miss, about those copies... Madam Chen specifically mentioned it. The temple needs those thirty copies urgently.”

“I know!”

Chen Baochai flicked her sleeves and turned around, throwing the shredded paper onto the floor.

“I’ll handle the copies with Mother myself.” She paused, eyes glinting back to the lamp. “But as for your studies, don’t think I haven’t noticed. You signed up for the County Examination?”

Chen Baosheng began picking up the paper scraps from the floor, stacking them in her palms.

“I did.”

“Absurd.” Chen Baochai took a step forward. “A daughter born from a concubine, showing her face to compete with men in an examination hall? You’d ruin The Chen Family’s reputation at the county yamen?”

“The founding emperor of our dynasty issued a decree allowing women to take the preliminary examination,” Chen Baosheng said, dropping the scraps into a bamboo basket. “Thirty years ago, the daughter of the Wu family in the east city took the provincial exam. The court even erected a memorial archway for her. When you say it’s disgraceful, do you mean the emperor’s decree is disgraceful, or the Wu family’s archway?”

Chen Baochai choked.

She opened her mouth, found no rebuttal, and finally sneered. “Clever little thing. Citing imperial decrees to silence me.”

“That’s all I’m good at.” Chen Baosheng said. “If you were as smart as you claim, you could have signed up. Registration closed yesterday at dusk. You missed it.”

Chen Baochai’s breath hitched.

“Just you wait.” She spun on her heel and strode away, her cloak brushing the doorframe. “I’m going to tell Mother right now. If you leave this house today, I’ll take your name.”

Her footsteps faded down the corridor.

The maid with the lantern followed her out. The one with the hand warmer lingered half a step behind, glanced at Chen Baosheng, and whispered: “Miss, about Madam Chen... you should probably just apologize.”

Chen Baosheng covered her inkstone.

“Thank you, ma,” she said. “Sweep up those scraps from the floor. Don’t let the wind blow them into the courtyard, or people will complain my room is dirty again.”

The maid sighed and grabbed the broom.

The incense in the main hall had burned through its second incense stick before Chen Baosheng was summoned inside.

Madam Chen sat on the daybed, a string of sandalwood prayer beads in her hand, clicking them one by one. A cup of tea sat on the desk, untouched, a film of skin floating on the surface.

“Kneel.”

Chen Baosheng knelt. Her knees pressed against the blue brick; the cold seeped up through her trousers.

“Answer me.” Madam Chen didn’t lift her eyes. “Your sister says you registered for the County Examination?”

“Yes.”

The beads stopped moving.

“Who gave you permission?”

“Registration requires no one’s permission,” Chen Baosheng said. “Just a household record, a guarantor, and a statement. My household record is under The Chen Family name. My guarantor is Third Uncle from the clan. I wrote the statement myself. All three requirements were met, so the yamen accepted it.”

“Third Uncle?” Madam Chen finally looked up. “That old fool is close to death. How did you trick him?”

“I didn’t trick him.” Chen Baosheng said. “I told him one thing: if no one from The Chen Family takes the exam this year, the county won’t allocate funds for the clan school’s tuition next year.”

The beads started clicking again, faster than before.

“You’re calculating, I see.”

“I dare not be scheming, Mother.” Chen Baosheng kept her head low. “I’m just thinking: whether I pass or fail, I’m still a Chen. If I pass, the plaque hangs over the Chen family gate.”

Madam Chen let out a cold snort.

“You’re just slapping gold onto your own face. Let me ask you: what sort of decency is it for a woman to sit an exam? When you go out there, people will point at the Chen door and say, ‘Look, this family’s daughter sits alongside men.’ How am I supposed to show my face to others after that?”

“The founding emperor of our dynasty issued a decree allowing women to take the preliminary exam,” Chen Baosheng said slowly. “Thirty years ago, the Wu daughter passed the provincial exam and the court erected an archway. If Mother says this is indecent, she’s saying the emperor is indecent, and the archway the court built is indecent. I dare not accept that claim, and Mother shouldn’t make it.”

The room fell silent for a moment.

Chen Baochai, standing nearby, stepped forward: “Mother, she just uses her little bit of literacy to block every argument—”

“Shut your mouth.” Madam Chen raised a hand.

Chen Baochai retreated, her face bright red.

Madam Chen placed the beads on the desk, her voice sinking. “Fine. You’ve got me on words. Then here’s something you’ll understand—no one leaves the house today.”

Chen Baosheng looked up.

“Today is the first day of the County Examination.”

“Then you don’t go.”

“If you register and don’t show up, it’s called ‘avoiding the exam.’” Chen Baosheng said. “Those who avoid the exam are stripped of their official titles for three generations, fined ten taels of silver, and hung in public at the county yamen for three days. If Mother wants to strip three generations of the Chen family of their titles, I have no objection.”

Madam Chen tapped her finger on the desk.

Lightly, but everyone in the room heard it.

“Are you threatening me?”

“I’m counting the cost for Mother,” Chen Baosheng said. “Ten taels of silver is a small matter. The public shaming is a big one. The Chen family has lived in this county for six generations. We have never had a public shaming plaque.”

Madam Chen was silent for a long time.

A trail of ash fell from the incense stick, breaking off at the rim of the holder.

“Go,” she finally said. “If you fail, come back and stay put. The Zhou family has already agreed to our match. They complained you’re a concubine’s daughter and want to cancel it. If you fail, the match is off. It saves you the trouble of taking up the spot.”

Chen Baochai let out a quiet chuckle.

“If they cancel it, so be it,” Chen Baosheng said, bowing her head. “Daughter takes her leave.”

She stood and walked to the door. From behind, Madam Chen added one last sentence.

“Chen Baochai cried until midnight last night, saying you stole her lamp oil.”

Chen Baosheng didn’t stop walking.

“The lamp oil in the west wing was bought with my own monthly allowance,” she said. “The account is with Kitchen Steward Liu. Mother can check anytime.”

The gong at the county yamen had struck the fifth watch. It wasn’t fully light, but the queue outside the exam halls had already stretched half the street.

Chen Baosheng wore a simple blue silk robe, her hair tied in a cap, standing at the back of the line. Wind rushed in from the street corner, flapping the hems of the young scholars ahead of her.

The searchers went through them one by one. When they reached her sleeve, one stopped.

“What is this?”

“A brush.”

“Nothing hidden in the handle?”

“Check it yourself, officer.”

The officer held the brush up to the light, then shook her exam basket. Inside were two baked buns, a flask of water, an inkstone, and a stick of ink.

“Go in.”

The exam booth was narrow as a box. One plank for a desk, one for a seat. Chen Baosheng sat down, straightened her inkstone, and ground her ink.

The topic was distributed.

One sheet of paper, eight characters: *The gentleman understands justice; the petty man understands profit.*

She stared at the eight characters for a long time.

That “book” in her mind flipped a page. She remembered reading a folk tale about a concubine’s daughter who was ground down to death in a big household, eventually leaving not even her name. That tale had an exam scene, with the same question. The daughter in the story had submitted a blank paper.

Chen Baosheng dipped her brush in the inkstone twice.

She wrote: *Justice is what is right.*

Three lines in, she stopped. She thought of the thirty pages of *The Admonitions for Women* torn to shreds in the west wing, thought of Madam Chen’s hand clicking the beads, thought of the short, sharp laugh Chen Baochai made when she asked who Chen Baosheng thought she was.

She switched to a draft sheet and started over.

This time, she wrote: *When people speak of justice today, they refer to its name, not its reality. A mother commands a son to be filial, but his filiality lies in obeying her mistakes; a master commands a servant to be loyal, but his loyalty lies in covering up his faults. When the name remains but the reality is lost, justice becomes an empty vessel...*

Her brush moved faster and faster.

The sun crawled across the roof of the booth, its light moving onto her wrist, then away again.

When the gong sounded for the collection of scrolls, she had written over seven hundred characters.

The scrolls were delivered to the inner hall by the next afternoon.

The chief examiner was surnamed Shen, in his early forties, wearing a half-worn dark green robe with sleeves rolled to the elbows. He was flipping through the papers one by one when he stopped.

“This one.”

A staff member nearby leaned in: “Your Excellency, what’s wrong with this one?”

“Read it.”

The staff member took it, read two lines, and raised an eyebrow.

“Thi... this...?”

“Keep reading.”

The staff member finished, put the scroll down, then picked it up again, rereading the beginning.

“Your Excellency, this is a woman’s exam paper.”

“I know.” Examiner Shen picked up his tea, took a sip, and didn’t put the cup down even though the tea was cold. “The registration list says: Chen, concubine-born, seventeen years old.”

“The writing style...”

“This style isn’t from a boudoir,” Examiner Shen set the cup down. “I’ve seen plenty of boudoir essays. They’re all safe and sound, quoting Confucius here and there, stitched together in a bland lump. This one is different. It dares to say ‘the name remains, but the reality is lost.’”

The staff member murmured, “That’s a bit sensitive.”

“Sensitive, but true.” Examiner Shen spread the scroll flat, pointing to a passage. “Look at this line: ‘A mother commands a son to be filial, but his filiality lies in obeying her mistakes.’ If this were written by a rebellious young man, it would be arrogance. But from a seventeen-year-old concubine’s daughter? Imagine the life she’s lived.”

The staff member fell silent.

Examiner Shen pulled the scroll out and set it aside separately.

“Select it.”

“Your Excellency, select it for what rank?”

Examiner Shen thought for a moment, raised a finger, and tapped the desk.

“First Place (An Shou).”

The staff member was shocked: “Your Excellency, the families here in the county will have something to say...”

“Let them come say it to me.” Examiner Shen placed the scroll on top of the pile, weighting it with a paperweight. “I select based on the writing, not the background.”

On the day the results were announced, it didn’t rain; the sun was scorching.

The conga of the heralds beat all the way down the street, stopping at the Chen gate.

“Chen Baosheng! First Place in the County Examination!”

The gatekeeper stood frozen, too stunned to react.

The gong sounded again.

“Chen Baosheng! Number One in the County Examination! First Place (An Shou)!”

The people in the alley swarmed in.

Chen Baochai was on the corridor of the second gate, trimming flower branches. She froze, shears suspended in the air. She turned around, the color draining from her face inch by inch.

“What did you say?”

The herald held up the red paper. “Miss Chen, congratulations! Miss Chen Baosheng of your household is First Place in the County Examination! Selected personally by His Excellency Shen. Number One!”

“Impossible,” Chen Baochai dropped her shears. “She’s just a...”

“Sister.”

Chen Baosheng walked over from the moon gate, still wearing that blue silk robe, the cuffs frayed from wear. She was holding that old, worn brush.

“Your shears fell.”

Chen Baochai didn’t pick them up. She stared at Chen Baosheng, her lips moving twice, but no sound came out.

The curtain to the main hall lifted, and Madam Chen walked out, prayer beads in her hand, her knuckles white from gripping them.

“What is all this noise?”

The herald held up the red paper again.

Madam Chen looked at the red paper for a long time.

“First Place,” she repeated, her voice flat. “Number One.”

“Yes,” Chen Baosheng said. “Mother, for six generations, no one from the Chen family has ever had a Number One red paper in this county.”

Someone outside the alley shouted, “The Chen family has produced a female First Place!”

Madam Chen’s fingers loosened. The beads slipped down, bumping against her wrist.

She opened her mouth, and finally said, “Put the red paper on the gate.”

Chen Baochai snapped her head around: “Mother!”

“Put it up,” Madam Chen turned and walked into the courtyard. “Six generations. First time ever.”

The curtain fell.

Chen Baochai stood on the corridor, her face pale as paper. She looked at Chen Baosheng and suddenly laughed. It was a hideous laugh.

“You won this round.”

“Mm.” Chen Baosheng tucked the worn brush into her sleeve. “Next time is the Prefectural Examination.”

She turned and walked toward the west wing. After two steps, that “book” in her head suddenly flipped a page.

Not one she turned.

It turned on its own.

A line of text floated on the page, the ink looking fresh, as if just written—

“On the day of the Prefectural Examination, a coffin will be carried to the Chen family gate.”

Chen Baosheng stopped walking.

The sun was scorching, baking the blue bricks until they radiated heat, but she felt a chill rise up the back of her neck.