Chapter 361: Even If You Turn to Ashes, I Would Still Know You

“Once mired in obscurity, now unrestrained and boundless in thought.
With the spring wind at my back, my steed gallops swiftly—
In a single day, I behold all the blossoms of Chang’an.”
— Meng Jiao, “After Passing the Imperial Examination”

The streets and alleys overflowed with people, a tide of excitement so fierce it seemed to ignite the very air. The broad avenue of Chang’an was packed so tightly that not even a drop of water could seep through.

Zhu Ping’an rode slowly into the avenue, his horse’s hooves clicking steadily upon the stone road. The sight before him stirred a single thought in his heart—the poem After Passing the Imperial Examination.

Truly, ten years of silent study, and now, with one stroke, the world knows your name.

As Zhu Ping’an’s horse stepped onto the grand avenue, the crowd—who had been waiting since morning—erupted in sheer euphoria. The moment their eyes fell upon him, the air boiled over with excitement.

“Look, look! The Zhuangyuan Lang is so young—he’s even younger than my little brother!”

“Isn’t that right? He doesn’t even look like he’s of age yet! What kind of upbringing did he have? What did he eat to become so brilliant?”

“Heavens above, I can hardly believe my eyes! Such talent at such a young age—this trip was worth it after all. I didn’t squeeze through the crowds for nothing! Now I’ll have something to tell the old woman when I get home—maybe she’ll stop spoiling our grandson so much!”

Cries of astonishment rippled through the sea of faces. It was as if an alien had descended upon the earth—each person shouting in disbelief and awe.

“You all don’t know the half of it,” said a burly uncle with a smug grin. “My seventh uncle’s eighth cousin’s little nephew works at a high official’s residence, and that official happens to be close friends with a grandee of the Ministry of Rites. I just heard the news myself—not long ago! This Zhuangyuan Lang is only fourteen this year! The youngest in the history of our Great Ming!”

The man’s words drew gasps and shrieks of shock. Pleased by the attention, he glanced proudly around before continuing, urged on by the clamoring crowd.

“And that’s not all! This Zhuangyuan Lang came from humble roots—a hanmen, you hear? No family ties in court, no noble backing! His family tills the fields at the foot of the mountain. He became top scholar entirely on his own merit!”

The revelation sent another wave of astonished cries through the crowd. Similar gossip broke out all along Chang’an Street—each storyteller spinning their own thread of admiration and envy.

In any age, nothing delighted the common folk more than the tale of a poor youth rising to greatness. And what could be more inspiring than a farmer’s son becoming the Zhuangyuan himself?

The people’s gazes burned hotter, their screams swelling like an ocean storm.

Especially the young maidens—dressed in silks and ribbons, faces flushed with excitement, eyes sparkling like spring peaches. With graceful, slender hands, they tossed embroidered handkerchiefs and fragrant sachets toward Zhu Ping’an, until the air seemed to rain with silken tokens of affection.

Clad in crimson robes, crowned with red flowers, astride a golden-saddled steed, Zhu Ping’an rode at the center of fanfare and splendor—banners fluttering, drums beating, attendants clearing the way. All eyes were on him; the second-place and third-place scholars were but shadows behind him, and the other jinshi trailing on foot were entirely forgotten.

It should have been me upon that horse!

Ouyang Zishi walked among the procession, his handsome face twisted with jealousy as he watched the crowd’s adoration, the handkerchiefs raining down upon Zhu Ping’an.

While the common folk filled the streets to catch a glimpse of the Zhuangyuan Lang, the wealthy watched from comfort. They had long since reserved private rooms on either side of the avenue, their servants arranging everything for a leisurely view.

One such room, on the second floor of a roadside teahouse, belonged to the Yan family—not that it needed to be “reserved,” for the establishment itself was one of their properties.

Inside, a refined chamber had been prepared: soft couches laid with brocade quilts, porcelain vases of flowers, glass lanterns glimmering faintly—every detail elegant and serene. A beaded curtain of crystal strands hung before the window; from within, one could see the street clearly, while those outside saw only a shimmer of light.

Miss Yan Er stood before the window, lifting a corner of the curtain with her slender, jade-like fingers. Her eyes—bright as autumn water—looked out upon the bustling street, calm and unruffled, as placid as a still lake.

Behind her stood several young maids, their excitement brimming over. They craned their necks eagerly toward the window, standing on tiptoe, eyes wide with anticipation for the parade of scholars to pass below.

“Miss, Miss! When Young Master left, he told the steward to ready this room especially—it really does have the best view of Chang’an Street! Look, you can see everything from here!”

“And Young Master said the Zhuangyuan title this time was practically guaranteed! The Master even said that once the palace examination is over, he’ll have Young Master come forward to propose—Miss, you are truly blessed!”

“That’s right, that’s right! Soon, Young Master himself will be leading the procession on horseback right beneath our window…”

The little maids chattered endlessly, their voices bright and lively, “Young Master this” and “Young Master that,” as they pressed closer to the window, eager for the moment their guye—their future lord—would pass by.

“What nonsense are you spouting? Who’s calling him my husband-to-be? I never agreed to anything! Say that again, and I’ll have your hides!”

Miss Yan, the second young lady of the Yan household, tore her gaze from the window, turned her head sharply, and bit her lip as she swept her glare across the group of young maids.

The little maids shrank their necks, stuck out their tongues, and offered embarrassed grins.

Suddenly, a wave of noise erupted from outside — drums thundering, gongs clanging, and firecrackers exploding in unison. The few maids standing by the window instantly perked up like cats catching a whiff of fish, craning their necks eagerly toward the street.

Not far away, down Chang’an Avenue, a grand procession was making its way along the imperial road. Before long, they spotted a man in a bright red robe, a crimson flower pinned to his chest, riding a magnificent red horse at an unhurried pace.

“The young master—the young master is here!”

“Miss! Quick, look! The young master’s here!”

In an instant, the little maids were beside themselves with excitement.

Their cheers came in waves, one after another—but as the man in the red robe, the red flower, and atop the red horse drew near, their chatter suddenly died out, as if a hand had clamped tight around a chicken’s throat.

Wait—something’s wrong. That’s not the young master at all! Who on earth is that?

The maids stared, wide-eyed and dumbfounded.

Just as their voices fell silent, a sudden shriek split the air from within the room.

“Ahhh—!”

Their usually calm, gentle-as-water Miss Yan, at that very moment, let out a scream sharp enough to pierce the heavens.

As her scream rang out, the maids thought to themselves: See, even Miss is shocked now! Just moments ago she said she wouldn’t agree, told us not to call him ‘young master,’ but now she’s all worried. She must’ve been shy earlier—now her true feelings are showing…

Their gossipy imaginations had barely begun to ignite before her next words snuffed them out completely.

“Ahhh—! So it’s you, you shameless scoundrel!”

Miss Yan’s furious shout froze the maids in place.

S-Scoundrel…?!

They stood there, mouths agape. What was going on? Did Miss… have something with that scholar in red?

Please don’t scare us like this, Miss!

But before the thought had even settled, they witnessed a scene that nearly sent their souls flying out of their bodies—

Their Miss, after shouting, looked around sharply, then bit her lip, snatched the gold hairpin inlaid with kingfisher enamel from her hair, and hurled it with all her strength out the window—straight toward the scholar on the red horse.

M-Miss… had just thrown her favorite hairpin… at that man?!

The maids’ hearts filled with panic. No wonder Miss opposed the marriage with the young master—so this was the real reason?

When did this happen? And why do we know nothing about it?

If Master finds out, won’t he flay us alive?!

They turned pale as they saw Miss Yan reaching next for her embroidered shoe, preparing to throw that next.

Meanwhile, Zhu Ping’an was smiling and nodding politely to the cheering crowds on both sides of the street when a glinting object whizzed past his horse’s head. He blinked—looked like a hairpin. He figured it must be some shy maiden tossing a token of affection like a handkerchief, and thought nothing of it.

But after a few more steps, something else came flying—smack! An embroidered shoe landed squarely on the horse’s head.

Throwing handkerchiefs or hairpins, I can understand… but a shoe? That’s going too far!

He raised his head to see who dared such a thing—and immediately felt his soul leave his body.

At the second-floor window of a building facing the street stood a young woman, teeth clenched, glaring down at him with fiery eyes, one shoe still in hand, ready to throw. Several terrified maids clung to her arms, pleading desperately.

That young woman… was none other than Miss Yan—the very same second daughter he had accidentally walked in on during her bath at the Yan residence!

Zhu Ping’an’s heart nearly stopped. He ducked his head at once, pulled up his sleeve to cover his face, and pressed his heels into the horse’s sides, muttering under his breath as he sped up, “You can’t see me… you can’t see me…”

“Scoundrel! Even if you turn to ashes, I’ll recognize you!”

With her heart ablaze, Miss Yan turned grief into fury, broke free from her maids’ restraining hands, and hurled her embroidered shoe straight at the retreating Zhu Ping’an with all her might.

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