After that banquet, they rested for two days and then prepared for the palace examination.
Half a month was enough for them to attend the exam at the hall, but too short for the good news to reach home.
The palace examination was presided over by the emperor himself, a grand affair.
When the emperor entered the hall, all civil and military officials paid respects. The provincial scholars stood quietly with the Ministry of Rites officials, waiting for the emperor to announce the examination topic before performing the formal bows. Once the topic was received, they took their seats, and the exam officially began.
The palace examination lasted only a single day. There was a meal and tea at noon, and after finishing, candidates could submit their papers and leave.
Xie Yan did not rush to write. He blended with the crowd, reading the topic first, then slowly jotting notes on scrap paper, as if taking ordinary study notes—no polished essay, only keywords and outlines.
He could write in many styles, usually knowing which to choose, but for this final exam, he hesitated.
His master had explained the emperor’s way of thinking, but never said which style was “best.” He had only said one thing:
In writing, it is not novelty or cleverness that matters, but the heart, the bones.
Xie Yan cherished this. He liked works that sprang from the heart, full of flesh and spirit. Such writing might be imperfect, flawed, yet leave a deep impression.
For the final exam, however… Xie Yan closed his eyes and chose “perfection,” following the common approach.
After copying the essay, he felt as if a gauzy robe had descended from the heavens—its color shifting with the surroundings, invisible yet present. So light, yet so heavy.
Only now did he realize he had grown—he was an adult.
After finishing the palace exam, he left through a side gate.
A single day of examination left him more exhausted than nine days of provincial exams. Back home, he collapsed onto the kang and retrieved his thistle charm, a symbol that “the body has thorns, but the heart remains untainted.”
Palace exam results would take another two days. Xie Yan settled his mind, wrote down the essays he wanted to remember, then quickly burned them. He only needed to retain the memory, not a copy.
While awaiting the announcement, news of his success as a metropolitan graduate reached his home, spreading throughout Sanshui Lane.
The household was lively. Visitors bringing gifts were at least ten times more numerous than when he became a provincial graduate. Merchants passing through also came to join the celebrations.
Lu Yang did not seek solitude; he enjoyed the commotion, his heart full of joy.
The family hosted a banquet in celebration, and in the study, they organized a “reading gathering” for ten consecutive days. Anyone could come read without charge, taking advantage of Xie Yan’s fame. Scholars flocked to the study, sharing in the joy and spreading his name throughout the city.
While they celebrated, Xie Yan received word of the palace exam results: he had achieved the top rank, the zhuangyuan.
But the real busyness only began afterward.
As zhuangyuan, Xie Yan led a group of metropolitan graduates, donning bright red official robes, performing formal bows of thanks, parading through the streets, attending banquets at Qionglin, learning rituals at the Honglu Temple, receiving imperial gifts, donning court attire, submitting official thanks, and paying respects at the Confucius Temple. From then on, he held official status.
Xie Yan had never interacted with so many people at once; he was utterly drained, his spirit seeming to leave his body while he went through the motions.
Once the ceremonies concluded, he regained awareness, and congratulations poured in for his triple success, bringing him back to that early morning when he first learned of his achievement.
The end of the palace examination marked the conclusion of the imperial exams.
He had completed an important task, and his life was entering the next stage.
Perhaps it was because friends were leaving and family was absent, combined with the fatigue from social obligations, that he found it difficult to feel joy.
He was the first to leave the capital.
Sheng Daxian departed second; as a second-tier metropolitan graduate, he could join the Hanlin Academy. After returning home to pay respects to his ancestors, he would head back to the capital.
Ji Mingzhu was third, assigned to the Ministry of War for official observation. This unexpected placement kept him in the capital longer before returning home to honor his ancestors.
Finally, Wu Pingzhi left, appointed magistrate of a county none of them had heard of. After leaving the capital, he would not return, needing to attend affairs at the Ministry of Personnel first.
The journey back was scattered compared to their shared journey to the capital.
In mid-March, while Xie Yan and the others were at the palace exam, a large market came to life in the city.
News of Xie Yan’s metropolitan success reached home, and securing a booth was effortless. However, with the rainy season not yet arrived, merchants had insufficient stock of mushrooms, which disappointed Lu Yang.
They had tried negotiating with other workshops and suppliers before, selling whatever others provided.
Later, Lu Yang discussed with Hong Chu how to make supply sources transparent, earning credibility in the process.
Reputation required years to build; the start would be slow and difficult. They lacked sufficient staff at first. As they grew, they could handle larger fortunes when personnel were ready.
By pursuing a reputation-based business, future ventures—shares or their own workshops—would be more acceptable to clients.
The market was busy inside and out.
When Xie Yan set out for home, messengers arrived again, congratulating him on becoming zhuangyuan.
Merchants, local gentry, and officials all visited with congratulations.
Yu, the owner of the high tower, sent a notice offering to host a banquet in Xie Yan’s honor, awaiting his return.
Yu had been among their first clients after arriving in the capital, using the prestige of the tower and his mushrooms to establish fame. Even now, he still supplied goods, including honey.
Lu Yang readily agreed, ensuring Yu’s business would not be delayed, promising to send the reservation notice in advance.
Unlike Xie Yan, who could not feel happiness in the capital, the home was filled with celebration.
Pregnant and cumbersome, Lu Yang directed activities from inside the house.
Before returning home, they first performed rites before the father-in-law’s ancestral tablet. Incense, offerings, and paper money were prepared.
Becoming zhuangyuan required a complete transformation of the household. Since the house was rented, structural changes were impossible, but they had to assign people outside. Li Feng and Luo Er assisted, and staff from the business were called in to help.
Messengers were overenthusiastic, sometimes dismantling window sills without regard for the house’s condition, all for silver. Excited occasions were not to be argued over; the family managed as best they could.
A zhuangyuan appears once every three years, but a truly exceptional one only once in a century. Xie Yan’s success was unlike any other.
How far his official career would go was secondary; for now, they could bask in the prestige.
His study would naturally attract zhuangyuan’s calligraphy, notes, and essays.
His brother’s restaurant could be prepared in advance—if buying property was too costly, they could rent. If they didn’t want to open on the street, Hai Youtian could check with the pawnbroker, and Steward Cai could help find a suitable eatery near the academy—large and impressive.
During the exam season, capital restaurants featured “zhuangyuan” items—zhuangyuan pork, zhuangyuan towers, even zhuangyuan tea. Opening a zhuangyuan-themed restaurant near the study seemed only fitting. Nearby scholars would be drawn to it.
The business could wait. Visiting merchants had already congratulated them twice; excess attention could be harmful.
They also planned to establish a clan school, elevating local relatives.
The Xie family was small. Their ancestral tomb required attention, and relatives should benefit from the zhuangyuan honor.
The family estate needed expansion, including building a clan school.
Some rooms would be reserved for children. The families of Lu Village and Li Village would send their children to study there.
