Andy marveled momentarily at the strange schemes concocted by his subconscious. The “examinations” Shuangyi alluded to proved to be the civil service exams, the method by which officials were selected into imperial bureaucracy. A passing rank meant higher social status, wealth, prestige, and political power. Post-titled juren were exempt from mandated labor, corporal punishment, and common taxes. The impending provincial-level test, held once every three years, was composed of three sessions spread across nine days. With an average passing rate of 2.5%, it was grueling as well as cutthroat.

After some moments Andy's throat felt significantly better. Even Shuangyi was amazed at how quickly the bruises faded from his neck. Soon the only evidence left of the sacrificial ritual were the marks on his arm and the circle array, which the girl covered with a large woven mat procured from a nearby cabinet. She then grabbed the meal tray and herded him out the door to be struck by crisp air suffused with the smell of damp earth and dry smoke.

Gray brick buildings trimmed with wooden doors, latticework windows, and curling tiled roofs spread before him, clustered in an open compound demarcated by tall brick walls. Scattered between them were small gardens sprouting sparse trees, the ground littered with amber and crimson leaves, some sporadically swirling in the evening breeze. Foliage crunched under their cloth shoes as Shuangyi led Andy down a series of stone pathways, passing various personnel scurrying about too busy to spare them a second glance.

Upon reaching a deserted corner near the outer wall, the girl pulled him aside. In a low voice she hastily recounted Mr. Liu’s turbulent relationship with a chief examiner prior to his death. The chief examiner was named Lord Ma, and he had traveled from the same small town as the deceased clerk. Theirs was a conflicted intimacy of cold shoulders and stolen glances, made promises and rebuffed advances. Mr. Liu was always seeking him out, yet turning tense and morose in his presence.

A week after arrival the chief examiner reunited with a childhood friend in the examination hall. Subsequently, their interactions increasingly worsened. The last time Shuangyi saw Mr. Liu he was being hounded and berated by Lord Ma’s friend, Qiangwei. Qiangwei had dogged the clerk into his room and proceeded to ransack it. Clothes, blanket, paper, and books flew through the air, all his paltry worldly possessions tossed out into the rain. “Get lost!” Qiangwei had snarled. Three days later, Andy woke up in the clerk's body.

“It would stand to reason that Qiangwei is one of the people Mr. Liu seeks vengeance against,” Shuangyi stated.

She led Andy around a large courtyard to where the buildings grew larger and more ornate, boasting painted red columns, sweeping roofs, and upturned eaves carved with guardian figures and dragon motifs. She stopped before a set of nondescript double doors.

“I’ll wait here,” the girl announced, and abruptly pushed him through.

Caught off guard Andy tripped on the raised threshold but managed to catch himself, stumbling into a dim room bordered by high shuttered windows and another set of double doors, larger and with a metal lock, embedded in the wall directly opposite. The room itself was small and utilitarian. At most there was enough space to contain a compact table, a chair, and two people standing a few feet apart.

The other man was just finishing lighting an oil lamp. Hearing Andy’s entrance he dropped the tinder and whipped around, pulling sword from scabbard in the same motion. His square robust frame assumed a defensive stance, exuding compressed power encased in laced bronze plate armor. Andy felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck.

“It’s you,” Qiangwei remarked disgustedly, sneer emphasized by squinting black eyes and a bristling goatee. He lowered his weapon and straightened, but remained leery. “What’s it going to take?” he asked, grinding fallen tinder remnants under one shoe.

To Andy’s uncertain silence he continued: “You cockroach. We have appealed to your sense of duty. We have given you money. We have broken everything you own. Yet you persist. What’s it going to take for you to leave Lord Ma alone?” His words dripped vitriol. However, when Qiangwei glanced up Andy was surprised to recognize the tight expression on his face. Andy’s oldest sister had borne that same expression many times throughout their childhood: sitting at a dining table piled high with bills, pushing a meager shopping cart of storebrand necessities down the grocery aisle, holding his hand in the principal’s office while he was being reprimanded for fighting at school. It was a look of frustration and utter helplessness. Of being unable to help your loved ones even though you were all they had.

With his sister Sandy it had been unjust punishment, draining youth and brewing resentment. To the point where she refused to speak at their mother’s funeral. Afterwards, at the family banquet, the only words Andy and his siblings could coax out of their elder who looked much older than her thirty years was: “She never said she cared. About any of us.”

As Andy’s silence grew, Qiangwei’s anger grew with it. “Do I have to kill you myself?” the guard growled. “You’re not even supposed to be here. You’re just a low-level clerk. Beating you to within an inch of your life would be justifiable!”

Before Andy knew it Qiangwei had sheathed his sword and was coming at him with a closed fist. And for the second time that day Andy’s body belied its wish to die, dodging the hit. He backed into the table, jostled the chair, and quickly circled around to put them both between him and the guard. He held a hand out for Qiangwei to stop. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Then why are you here?” Qiangwei demanded. “Lord Ma is a virtuous man. He has a wife whom he loves dearly, a son he dotes upon. He is no cutsleeve!” Using the chair as a step, Qiangwei leapt across the table, knuckles grazing the front of Andy’s robe where he barely swerved in time.

Trying to maintain the widest berth possible in close quarters, Andy scampered and picked up the chair Qiangwei had toppled, raising it as a shield. “This is all a misunderstanding,” he jabbered, heart in his throat.

“You are the one who misunderstands,” Qiangwei snapped. “Lord Ma took you under his wing and gave you a place to stay out of pity. He saw a lost junior alone in a new town. He meant to be a benevolent mentor, nothing more. Certainly not the…perverted designs you have on him.” He swiped the chair out of Andy’s grip with his left hand, closed the distance and snatched Andy’s robe with his right. He nimbly slipped behind Andy and seized him in a headlock, then proceeded to pummel his side.

Pain radiated across Andy’s right flank, shockingly true to life. It took all of his concentration to tuck his chin into Qiangwei’s elbow while pulling down on his arm, shuffling sideways. He stomped backwards into Qiangwei’s leather-clad foot as hard as he could, pushing and twisting maniacally until his head slipped through the narrow momentary opening. Once free, he drove the heel of his palm into Qiangwei’s nose and turned and ran. He managed a few steps before a heavy force crashed into his back, toppling him to the ground.

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Pinned face down with Qiangwei straddling his waist, Andy squirmed and groped behind with his right hand, meaning to trap one of the guard’s legs. However his weakened clerk’s fingers–unused to prolonged feats of strength–were unable to sustain a grip. Andy was rewarded with a jarring punch to the spine for his efforts.

“You are despicable and shameless,” Qiangwei spluttered nasally. “With your unwanted gifts and lewd behavior. Vexing Lord Ma’s family. Inciting rumors that will ruin his reputation.” Vicious blows rained down upon Andy’s upper back with renewed fury.

All Andy could do was close his eyes and cross arms behind his curled head. As he lay against the stone floor, each excruciating strike grinding his forehead anew into its unyielding surface, his mind couldn’t help reflecting: This is certainly a novel way to die. Just when the incessant pounding was beginning to overwhelm all thought and sense, a dull thud came from above. The assault ceased, and the heavy weight slid off his body.

Andy achingly raised his neck to behold Shuangyi standing over him, wielding an empty meal tray. By this point he had experienced more emotions within the last disjointed hour than he had in the entire disconnected year. His eyes watered with deep-blossoming gratitude.

“Help me quickly,” the girl implored, pulling him up, tearing tender muscles and prompting distressed groans. She pressed the smooth, cool lidded wine jug into his trembling hands. “Pour some of this onto his mouth.”

Andy watched dumbly as Shuangyi hastened to the large locked doors, producing from her waist pouch an imposing set of keys that seemed incongruous in a serving girl’s hands. “What are you doing?” he asked, completely bewildered.

“Hurry,” Shuangyi urged. “Before the next watchmen rotation.”

Spurred by the threat of further violence, Andy knelt stiffly in front of the unconscious guard who looked a different kind of wretched. Qiangwei lay slumped on his side, nose streaming blood, left temple growing an angry purple goose egg. Gritting teeth against his own discomfort, Andy forced his burning upper body to uncap the ceramic jug. He dribbled a shaky stream of cloudy rice wine onto the guard’s slightly parted lips.

When he peered up again Shuangyi was inexplicably kowtowing beside an unlatched wooden chest marked with the official stamp of the examination office. Behind her, through the opened double doors, shelves filled with dozens more of the same marked container–each individually locked and metal-reinforced–stretched into darkness. It wasn't until he heard her labored breathing that Andy realized Shuangyi was bent over a paper packet, hands cupped around a particular spot upon which she was exhaling hot air.

The girl paused mid-breath. “Throw me his knife,” she instructed, nodding at the dagger attached to Qiangwei’s belt.

Haltingly, Andy extracted the weapon from its sheath and slid it to Shuangyi, who used the sharp point to gently lift half of the softened wax seal keeping the packet fastened. She carefully removed a sheaf of papers and began reading them in earnest.

Andy wanted to press for an explanation. But unfamiliarity tripped his tongue and what he nervously blurted instead was: “You’re a warrior and a poet? I’m done for.”

The girl responded with a small smile. She soon finished studying the contents and meticulously resealed the documents, returning everything to their previous proper state. Collecting the meal tray, she restored the plateware that had been set beside the front doors but left the wine jug laying next to Qiangwei’s limp fingers. “Let’s go,” she called.

Andy, on the brink of some dawning realizations, hesitated.

Seeing this, Shuangyi walked over and lightly dusted him off with one hand, straightened his robes. “Take heart,” she said, gingerly pushing up his left sleeve. “You’re on the right track. Look, one mark has already disappeared.”

#

It was real. It was all fucking real and he was in the thick of it. However, before Andy could fully process what it meant to be displaced in history within another man’s body, they were back outside Mr. Liu’s assigned quarters and Shuangyi was taking her leave. He was immediately approached by three men dressed in blue robes similar to his and, with much chastising about how he was a lazy-good-for-nothing, was conscripted to help set up the examination cells.

It was difficult work, if only due to his delicate condition. Hauling large bundles of ink blocks, brushes, and paper. Moving desks and arranging seating for a thousand candidates. When he was finally released to retire, Andy collapsed into bed and fell into a deep sleep. His first unaided since the wake.

The following morning Andy awoke to a hard swollen torso and an environment thick with nervous energy. People bustled about frantically in small groups and there was much shouting, swerving, and near-body collisions. Even so, an undercurrent of duty and pride pulsed through the compound as last minute preparations were attended to with chaotic efficiency.

Andy tried his best to follow along. Luckily, most of the exam staff were visitors, and the local servants didn't bat an eye when asked to provide detailed directions to specific locations. The bulk of his duties was also grunt work, straightforward and self-explanatory. If there was a task beyond his ability, other clerks seamlessly took over, impatiently bumping him out of the way with a personal insult lobbed so easily that Andy couldn't help suspecting the deceased clerk was never held in high regard.

Andy was out of place, unmoored, and he reveled in it. This was a different detachment to which he was accustomed. One where the crisp lines and sharp edges of reality were retained–indeed, heightened. One where sounds rang distinct and clear and colors blazed vibrant and bright. For the first time in a long time, he was interested in his surroundings. He wanted to try new things. He wondered about people.

As he stood at the entrance of the examination hall, verifying the identities of candidates who entered, Andy was surprised by the appearance of an uncanny young man dressed in loose black robes. His name ticket established him as Erkang, and his features–short, fair skinned, clean-shaven–matched that of the description in the registration records. It was Shuangyi.

The girl had contrived to thicken her brows, angle her jaw, slick her fringe back along with the rest of her hair beneath a winged black gauze cap. Nevertheless, there were traces of the narrow nose that strategic shading couldn't quite broaden, the full lips that muted color couldn't quite thin, and the modest way in which she carried herself.

She showed no sign of recognition and he admitted her without reaction. The examination commenced without incident. Andy spent the rest of the day running ragged: distributing test questions (from familiar wooden chests), replenishing writing supplies, and providing food, water, and other necessities to candidates.

By the end of the day Andy was exhausted and content. His team, tasked with closing out the first session, worked industriously to seal the completed exam papers back into chests in the administrative office. While occupied thus, one of the more loquacious clerks nudged the colleague next to him. “Did you hear?” he asked in a low voice. “The whole xiangshi almost got canceled today. They found one of the watchmen guarding the test questions drunk and passed out on the job. Even tripped and gave himself a bloody nose. He’ll be demoted and flogged for sure. It was fortunate none of the documents were leaked.”