Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 355: The Imperial Ceremony of Proclamation (Part 1)
Before even the first rooster’s cry echoed through the darkness, before any dog barked to greet the dawn, the world outside was swallowed in a heavy, velvety black. Not a single glimmer of light pierced the night.
Zhu Ping’an rose quietly, the faint rustle of his robes the only sound in the silent house. He washed and dressed by lamplight, his movements unhurried, precise — a man who had long since learned the discipline of early hours. Breakfast soon arrived, borne by the little maid nicknamed Baozi, who carried a lantern that cast a gentle circle of golden light through the gloom. She set down a tray of freshly steamed buns, pickled vegetables, and porridge.
He ate in silence. The buns were soft yet springy, their fragrant filling bursting with savory flavor. The porridge was mild and smooth, and the side dishes crisp and refreshing — the kind of breakfast that left warmth lingering in both the body and heart. Even half-awake, Zhu Ping’an could recognize the skillful hand behind it. This must be the work of the Li family’s chef again, he thought, savoring the taste. The man’s culinary progress had been remarkable.
A diligent one, Zhu Ping’an mused, setting his chopsticks down. To prepare such a meal, he must rise at least half an hour earlier than I. A faint smile touched his lips. I ought to thank him in person someday. These days, I’ve lived half on that man’s cooking. Gratitude, after all, should never be left unspoken.
Once breakfast was done, Baozi helped him don the new ceremonial attire of a freshly minted jinshi — the highest title of the imperial examination. The black gauze hat, the deep-blue robe, the gleaming belt — everything was spotless, crisp, new. Adjusting the folds, Zhu Ping’an glanced once at his reflection in the bronze mirror, then stepped out of the Marquis of Linhuai’s residence. His destination: the Forbidden City.
Yesterday, the Ministry of Rites had sent messengers to deliver this new robe along with a formal notice — the Chuanlu ceremony, where the rankings of the palace examination would be announced, was to be held in the Hall of Preserving Harmony within the Forbidden City.
The Forbidden City — a city within a city — was known in later ages as the Imperial Palace. Yet the Ming Dynasty’s version differed greatly from the one history would remember. There were no tourists here, no ticket gates or bustling crowds. It was sacred ground, the beating heart of imperial power. Only the most exalted among men walked its courtyards.
The Chuanlu, in essence, was the imperial announcement of success — when the Emperor himself would reveal the ranking of the top scholars.
By the time Zhu Ping’an reached the Meridian Gate, the horizon was softening. The east glowed faintly, the first timid hint of dawn. Flowers seemed to blush beneath the growing light, the willows shimmered with the promise of green, and the golden-glazed tiles of the Forbidden City gleamed with a brilliance that hinted at wealth and majesty beyond measure.
Outside the gate, a sea of people had already gathered — dense, orderly, and buzzing with restrained excitement. The crowd split naturally into two camps. On one side stood the civil and military officials in their formal robes, arranged according to rank and office. On the other were the newly appointed jinshi, each clad in the same official attire as Zhu Ping’an — fresh-faced scholars on the cusp of their destiny.
The air vibrated with emotion. The officials were restless with anticipation; for many, this would be their first glimpse of the Jiajing Emperor in years. Only those of the highest rank had been permitted into the palace during the previous examination. To see the Son of Heaven again was a rare privilege indeed. As for the young scholars — their hearts thundered with excitement. This day was the culmination of a decade of study, sleepless nights, and relentless pursuit. Today, they would finally learn the fruits of their labor.
The palace gates had yet to open, so conversations bloomed among the crowd. Laughter, speculation, nervous chatter — all carried beneath the pale light of dawn.
Zhu Ping’an soon spotted his friends, Zhang Siwei and Wang Shizhen, and joined the cluster of four hundred new jinshi.
The most popular topic, unsurprisingly, was the identity of the coming Zhuangyuan — the champion of the imperial exam. No one, not even the senior officials, knew the final rankings of the top twenty candidates. Those results were sealed by the Emperor himself and would remain secret until the formal announcement.
Rumors, of course, were plentiful. Many of these young men came from noble families or had connections within the court. Through whispers and “accidental” leaks, scraps of information from the eight chief examiners — including the powerful Grand Secretary Yan Song — had made their rounds.
Adding fuel to the fire, word had spread that the Emperor himself had summoned the top twenty candidates for an audience the previous day. With the mystery of the results wrapped around such tantalizing hints, speculation flared like wildfire.
“Logically speaking,” one scholar began confidently, “the Huiyuan from the provincial exams stands a strong chance. History often favors him.”
Before his words had even faded, another young man chuckled and shook his head. “Ah, you know half the story, brother, but not the whole.” His grin held a glint of gossip.
“Oh? Then enlighten me.”
“I’ve reliable word — my father’s colleague serves under one of the chief examiners. Last night, over wine, he mentioned that when His Majesty reviewed the top papers, your so-called Huiyuan, Zhu Ping’an, received only seven ‘O’ marks out of eight! Before the Emperor’s inspection, his ranking was… eleventh.” The speaker’s tone was dripping with satisfaction, clearly enjoying the collective gasp that rippled through the group.
“Eleventh?” someone repeated, aghast. “That’s not even top ten! Forget Zhuangyuan — he’ll be lucky to scrape into the second tier!”
Another chimed in eagerly, “And to think — that was after Grand Secretary Yan personally intervened! I heard the first review gave him only six ‘O’s. If not for Yan’s favor, he wouldn’t even have been in the running.”
The crowd buzzed, energy rising. The idea that the former Huiyuan had fallen from grace thrilled many who secretly hoped to climb in his place.
Ah, thought Zhu Ping’an, listening quietly as they dissected his supposed failure. He smiled faintly, unbothered. When a few sympathetic glances turned his way, he simply nodded, calm and mild.
To others, his composure only deepened their assumptions. He must be crushed inside, they thought. A man laughing on the outside, heartbroken within.
Zhang Siwei and Wang Shizhen, standing close by, tried to console him. “Don’t lose heart, Brother Zhu. The results aren’t out yet. Anything could happen.” Yet their tones betrayed doubt — they, too, believed the rumors.
Zhu Ping’an only chuckled softly. “No need to worry. To have come this far is enough. As for the title of Zhuangyuan — if fate grants it, I’ll be grateful; if not, it simply wasn’t mine to claim.”
His words carried a quiet strength.
“‘If I gain it, it’s my fortune; if I lose it, it’s my fate,’” Zhang Siwei murmured in admiration. “What a heart at peace! Truly, Brother Zhu, your outlook humbles me.”
Wang Shizhen nodded, equally impressed.
Of course, not everyone shared their reverence. Some sneered inwardly. Keep pretending. Let’s see how serene you look when the results are read aloud.
“I, for one, believe the champion will be Ouyang Zishi,” another scholar declared. “I’ve heard from reliable sources that all eight examiners gave his paper top marks.”
That statement electrified the crowd. Nearly everyone nodded in agreement, and those standing near Ouyang immediately began to heap flattery upon him. The man himself offered modest replies — “Oh, you jest,” “The results are yet to come” — but his eyes gleamed with pride, his posture easy, confident.
Soon, talk shifted to yesterday’s imperial audience.
“I heard His Majesty allowed each of the top twenty to choose a gift,” one man said eagerly. “What did everyone pick?”
“Golden carp,” someone replied promptly. Others echoed the same — “Yes, a golden carp, symbol of leaping through the Dragon Gate!”
When they turned to Ouyang Zishi, he smiled faintly. “I, too, chose the golden carp. What could be more fitting for a scholar’s ascent?”
Laughter and agreement rippled through the group — until someone turned to Zhu Ping’an.
“And you, Brother Zhu? You were summoned too, were you not? What did you choose?”
“Ah.” Zhu Ping’an’s tone was simple, his expression serene. “A golden rooster.”
For a heartbeat, silence fell. Then, as if a ripple passed through water, whispers and muffled laughter spread. A golden rooster? Not the carp, the age-old emblem of examination triumph, but a rooster?
They exchanged glances, smirking. Foolish choice. Even with Grand Secretary Yan’s help, he’d barely scraped into the top ranks — and now this? A rooster instead of a carp?
Across the crowd, Ouyang Zishi’s lips curled in amusement. He murmured under his breath, “Utter nonsense,” and his smile widened — bright, smug, and utterly certain of victory.