On the day of the annual Imperial Exam, Lin strode into the Palace of the Emperor. She wore loose-fitting garbs for men, her hair tied back into a neat bun. Her strides were wide and her footfalls heavy, an impersonation of the mannerisms her second brother often displayed.
Just for today, she would not be Yao Lin, but Yao Si, a young man attempting the Imperial Exam, hoping for a place in the Emperor’s Court.
The receptionists at the entrance registered her name and waved her in, none the wiser to her true identity. There, she stood amongst crowds of candidates old and young alike, all waiting for their chance to scale the ranks.
All men, of course. The Yang kingdom was a patriarchy, only men had the chance to guide the kingdom on its path. As a woman, Lin found herself lucky enough that her family saw fit to educate her in both scholarly and martial pursuits. After all, it would not do for a Weaver of Fate to be ignorant to the ways of the world, even if her role would only ever consist of watching and witnessing.
After a period of waiting, they were ushered through a grand set of iron gates and into a courtyard lined with desks and chairs, filled with the scent of peach blossoms. There, they were seated by order of surname, given sheets of paper with questions written on them.
“Silence! Silence!” the examiner at the front of the courtyard called out in a reedy voice. “The 64th Imperial Exam will begin shortly!”
She closed her eyes and rested as the rest of the candidates quieted down and settled in. She had been studying diligently ever since her epiphany two years ago. She would aim for a jinshi degree, one of the highest honours that would allow her a place in the Emperor’s court. It would be difficult, given all the talented individuals taking the exam today, but not impossible.
With a strike of a gong, the exam began. The candidates picked up their calligraphy brushes and began to write. Lin regarded each question carefully before answering, making sure that all she’d written would be insightful and useful to the emperor.
“What did Confucius have to say about teachers?”
In walking the path of life, one out of three men can be my teacher, she wrote carefully. Choose that which he does well and learn from it. Choose that which he does poorly and do better.
“What would a pious son do to honour his late parents?”
He would mourn his parents for three years, following the rules of propriety.
“What would a pious son do if his father commits a crime?”
A pious son would not allow his father to commit immoral acts in the first place. If he does, he would gently but sternly advise his father to turn away from his wrongdoings and do the correct thing.
Confucian literature, arithmetic, law… she answered all these with relative ease. The teachings her family had given her were put to good use, she managed to complete all questions with answers she felt satisfied with.
Finally, she reached the last question. The poetry section.
“All things natural are governed by the will of tian ming. With this line as inspiration, compose a poem.”
Her mind flashed back to the field of rain watered chrysanthemums, the faces of Zhi’er, Grandfather, and all others sacrificed to the weaving of Fate filling her head.
“The will of the inevitable tian ming.”
She thought for a moment, before pressing her brush to the paper, the ink leaving elegant strokes on the milky white surface.
Peach blooms ripe in spring.
One shot turned to waste.
Moonlit drinks for two.
All things have their place.
With the resounding strike of a gong, the exam was over. She was swept along with the crowd as they were ushered back out of the courtyard, accompanied by the reedy reminder to return in a month for the archery and martial prowess tests.
She spent the rest of the month at home practicing, shooting at a target set up in the yard over and over again. Even after two years of practice, it took all her strength to pull open the military grade bows that would be used in the exam, even more to keep it drawn long enough to aim and make her shot.
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She did not hope to outclass the other candidates at the physical tests. After all, they would likely trump her in both skill and strength, some of them having been training for most of their life. However, she had other plans to reach her goal.
“Will you not reconsider today either?” The General was watching her train, his eyes tracking her every arrow as she tried again and again to hit the bullseye.
“Not today,” she said resolutely.
“How many threads are left?”
“Five.”
“You’ve made no progress,” the General waved his bamboo fan. “You cannot delay the inevitable, you know. The threads will weave themselves if you take too long.”
“Oh, I’ve made progress, alright,”
She drew her bow and took a shot.
“These threads just need a few extra steps if they’re to be woven with grace.”
***
The day of the physical tests dawned, and Lin was swept along with the crowd of candidates as they hurried into the exam venue. The atmosphere seemed to be a lot more tense than it was during the written examinations. The candidates whispered to one another in low voices, their murmuring filling the waiting room like the low hum of bees.
“They say that the Emperor himself will be invigilating today,” said the whispers.
“Do you think he’ll commend anyone?”
They were hushed and ushered into the same courtyard that the written examinations had taken place in. This time, however, instead of desks and chairs, the courtyard was lined with wooden targets. An examiner lined them up in groups of 10 in front of the targets, and handed the first in each line a bow and arrow.
“Silence!” called out the reedy voiced examiner, before bowing and gesturing to a balcony on the upper left. “All hail his Majesty, Emperor Huo!”
Lin turned.
Standing on the balcony overlooking the courtyard was a tall figure dressed in rippling, yellow silk. His black hair was swept back over his head in a wave, his eyes dark and vacant. The Emperor’s gaze swept absently over the crowd of candidates, his hands placed demurely behind his back.
“Health and longevity to his Majesty!”
Lin bowed along with the crowd, keeping one eye on the man on the balcony. According to the threads of Fate and her own research, the Emperor was a lazy ruler, who did not care much about the affairs of the state, tending to hand official business off to his eunuchs. He spent his days holed up in the Imperial Palace writing and sampling poetry, waited on by beautiful women. Despite his incompetency with ruling, however, he had always personally graded the poetry sections of the imperial examinations.
The Emperor waved his hand to silence the crowd’s chants.
“There will be three shots per candidate,” he announced in a slow, uninterested tone. “No more no less. You will be graded on these three shots. You may begin.”
The examination began. Young and older men alike stepped up to the starting line and pulled open the heavy, military bows like they were nothing, taking aim at the targets. One, two, three, all arrows met their mark near the inner circles of the targets, some even hitting the bullseye.
One candidate hit the dead centre of the bullseye all three times, splitting his arrow down the middle for each. Another missed all three, the arrows falling uselessly to the floor. Lin watched as it grew closer and closer to her turn, pressure arising in her stomach.
She would not fail.
A bell rang. She stepped up to the starting line. The bowstring was tight, taking all her strength just to pull open. Her hand trembled with exertion as she pulled the string to her cheek, taking aim at her target. She shot almost immediately. She had to make her shot before her strength failed.
Thwump.
The arrow hit the outer circle.
She drew her bow again and shot.
Thwump.
One in the middle circle.
It wasn’t enough. She gritted her teeth. She had to send her message here and now.
The crowd was beginning to twitter to each other in hushed whispers, watching her subpar performance.
With the last of her strength, she pulled the bowstring open, the string digging into the flesh of her fingers like knives. She raised the arrow to her cheek and took aim. Her vision wobbled and wavered with concentration, her target seeming to multiply and dance before her eyes. Her hands shook. Beads of sweat rolled down her face.
She took a deep breath.
Thwump.
The arrow shot past the wooden target and into one of the peach trees flanking the courtyard. It split the flesh of one of the freshly grown peaches with a sickening splat, before goring itself deep into the wood of the tree trunk. The twittering laughter from the other candidates grew louder, followed by a few hushed jeers.
The Emperor stared. He then turned and left, gesturing for his attendants to take over the invigilation.
She lowered her bow, her brow slick with sweat, her heart racing.
This feeling.
It was the feeling of victory.