Kays Translations

Chapter 360: Boasting on the Imperial Street

With Feng Bao’s assistance, Zhu Ping’an changed into the attire of a Zhuangyuan—the champion scholar. The garments radiated a sense of superiority distinct from other jinshi; they were much closer in design to the court robes of high-ranking officials. Upon his head sat a two-beamed ceremonial crown, fastened with a pure gold hairpin, from which hung blue silk cords that looped neatly beneath his chin.

The Zhuangyuan robe was made of crimson silk gauze, different from the azure robes of the other jinshi—strikingly bright and elegant. Around his waist was the plain silver belt of a sixth-rank official, from which hung a jade pendant inlaid with pearls and tassels.

The only thing that felt a bit awkward was the pair of jeweled floral ornaments on his hat—far larger and more ornate than those worn by other jinshi. For a grown man to wear two rows of diancui hairpins, it did feel rather strange.

“Zhuangyuan-lang, you truly look the picture of grace and talent,” Feng Bao complimented after Zhu Ping’an had finished dressing.

“Eunuch Feng jests,” Zhu Ping’an replied with a faint smile, shaking his head. “I’m probably the least handsome Zhuangyuan-lang since the founding of Great Ming, haha.”

He had no illusions about his looks. Even with the grandeur of the Zhuangyuan robes, he couldn’t be called striking.

Once Zhu Ping’an and the other two top scholars had changed into their ceremonial attire, they returned to the front of the Grand Hall. A few palace attendants approached, each carrying a tray bearing a cup of imperial wine. They presented them respectfully to Zhu Ping’an, the Bangyan (second place), and the Tanhualang (third place). The three lifted their cups, bowed deeply in the direction of the Western Garden where Emperor Jiajing resided, and then drained them in a single motion before setting the cups back on the trays.

Thus began the official Yujie Kuaguan procession. In essence, it was a ceremony where the Zhuangyuan led the new jinshi to the Left Gate of Chang’an to witness the posting of the Imperial Examination’s Golden Roll before returning home.

Officials from the Ministry of Rites and the Honglu Temple carried the golden list at the head of the procession. Zhu Ping’an, with the Bangyan and Tanhualang beside him, followed in the middle, while the rest of the jinshi walked behind.

They walked together—but not on the same path.

Zhu Ping’an and the two top scholars were permitted to walk upon the imperial road itself, while the others had to keep to the sides. This imperial road was reserved for the Emperor alone. Even the Empress was allowed to tread it only once in her lifetime—on her wedding day.

Of course, Zhu Ping’an and his companions would walk it only this once. Yet for the countless scholars of the Great Ming, this single step upon the imperial road was the highest possible honor—an unattainable glory they dreamt of day and night.

Zhu Ping’an himself felt rather calm as he walked. But behind him, the Bangyan and Tanhualang were visibly trembling with emotion. When Zhu Ping’an glanced back, he almost laughed—their faces were streaked with tears, and they looked so overwhelmed they could barely walk.

Surely it’s not that emotional? he thought. But after a moment’s reflection, he understood. Of life’s three great joys, “the moment one’s name appears on the golden list” ranked first.

Han Yupeng, the Bangyan, watched Zhu Ping’an’s composed figure ahead of him and felt overwhelming admiration. Truly worthy of being the Zhuangyuan, he thought. Look at that calmness, that self-restraint—not elated by success, not saddened by failure.

As for himself—he could hardly keep steady. He hadn’t expected to rank as Bangyan at all. His connections weren’t strong—certainly not as powerful as Ouyang Zishi’s—and in the previous Huishi (provincial exam), he’d only placed sixth. The Huiyuan, Zhu Ping’an, and others had far outshone him. So when the results of the Dianshi (palace exam) were announced and his name appeared second, he had been struck dumb with joy. Were it not for the solemnity of the imperial hall and the need to spare Ouyang Zishi’s feelings, he might have screamed aloud in delight.

Now, walking upon the imperial road—the path only the Emperor could tread—his excitement was beyond words.

Knowing this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, Zhu Ping’an slowed his pace to let the others savor the moment.

What should have taken ten minutes to reach the Gate of Supreme Harmony ended up taking nearly half an hour.

The Bangyan and Tanhualang could have given Zhu Ping’an a hundred praises for his thoughtfulness.

Passing through the Gate of Supreme Harmony, they continued straight through its central portal—another privilege reserved for the Emperor alone—and then onward to Meridian Gate (Wumen).

The Wumen, also known as the “Five Phoenix Tower,” consisted of five gatehouses. Its central structure, resembling a phoenix spreading its wings, gave the gate its name. From the front, one could see three archways, but from behind, there were five.

When Zhu Ping’an and his companions arrived, the guards opened both the main gate and the two side passages—doors visible only from the sides.

Zhu Ping’an led the Bangyan and Tanhualang through the central gate, while the civil officials guided the remaining jinshi through the eastern passage, and the military candidates took the western one.

Beyond the Wumen, the sound of drums and music filled the air. Under the accompaniment of the imperial guards’ fanfare, they exited through Duanmen, then Chengtianmen, and finally crossed a vast square before arriving at the Left Gate of Chang’an, at the northeast corner of the Daming Gate.

Every year, the Golden List of the Palace Examination was posted at the Left Gate of Chang’an—also known as the Dragon Gate, symbolizing the carp’s leap over the dragon gate, signifying the transformation of scholars into honored elites.

Today, the gate was decorated in grand celebration. A temporary “Dragon Pavilion” had been built, hung with red silk and great lanterns. Zhu Ping’an and his peers entered the pavilion to watch the officials of the Honglu Temple and the Ministry of Rites post the Golden List.

The magnificent list, sealed with the great imperial jade stamp, gleamed beneath the sunlight. The newly appointed jinshi gazed upon it with tears glistening at the corners of their eyes.

Once the list was posted, the Prefect of Shuntian—who had long been waiting—stepped forward with two attendants. With congratulations, he draped a wide crimson sash diagonally over Zhu Ping’an’s chest, affixing a great red flower at the center. Another was pinned atop his hat.

The other two officials did the same for the Bangyan and Tanhualang.

The rest of the jinshi looked on in admiration, none more so than Ouyang Zishi, whose eyes burned with envy and frustration.

Soon after, three splendid scarlet horses were led forward. Their saddles gleamed with gold, and their whips were woven with golden threads. Zhu Ping’an mounted the most magnificent of the steeds, golden whip in hand, leading the procession, with the Bangyan and Tanhualang close behind. The rest followed on foot as they proceeded toward Chang’an Avenue.

At the head of the procession, attendants carried banners of red and gold reading “Zhuangyuan Zhu Ping’an” and “Triumphant in All Three Examinations,” while musicians beat drums and blew horns, filling the air with a thunderous clamor.

Yet the greatest excitement came from the people of the capital.

At that moment, all of Beijing poured into the streets of Chang’an. The sidewalks, balconies, and rooftops were crowded with people craning their necks for a glimpse.

Even the young women who seldom left their homes had dressed in their finest, hurrying out just to see what the Zhuangyuan-lang looked like.

For once, their families didn’t stop them.

Chang’an Avenue was packed—shoulder to shoulder, the entire city emptied into the streets to watch the Zhuangyuan-lang!

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