Chapter 156
Cui Xie also wanted to write something in return, but alas, he didn’t have the skill. Instead, he picked up a piece of rice cake from the porcelain plate and, in the empty space on the plate, used a pencil to write: ‘Having met the gentleman, my heart overflows with words.’ He then pushed the plate, rice cake and all, over to Xie Ying.
Xie Ying pulled the edge of the plate closer and picked up a piece of rice cake. The elegant pencil-written characters came into view:
‘Having met the gentleman, my heart overflows with words. With shared laughter and harmony, we cultivate our renown and joy together.’
The verse seemed to speak of how upon meeting the gentleman he could express one’s thoughts with openness and unreserved sincerity. The two kept each other company, enjoying drinks like a pair of swallows, conversing with laughter and joy, while preserving harmony and good reputation…
Xie Ying read word by word, filling in the rest of the verse in his mind. At that moment, from the far end of the tea stall, the storyteller was reciting in a spirited tone:
“Xie daren sits in the hall reading testimony when a messenger from Yi Prefecture suddenly arrives, urgently delivering a letter. Hurriedly breaking the seal, it tells of trouble at the mountain station, entangling Feng Yun. Xie daren, with great wisdom, summons a commandant and gives orders: ‘Quickly, go to the Feng residence and bring back the virtuous Lady Wang…’”
How could it not be about reputation and harmonious? Even he would laugh himself to death hearing that! When have the Jinyiwei ever handled cases with such mystique as claimed?. His job wasn’t as mystical as these tales made it out to be—no clever glances, summoning a maiden so they could rescue their subordinates and luring the criminals into their traps.
Xie Ying couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle, breaking off a piece of rice cake to wipe away the writing on the plate before lifting his gaze to look at Cui Xie.
Cui Xie was watching him intently. Seeing the other’s gaze, Cui Xie lowered the rice cake from his lips and smiled, saying, “These storytelling performances are actually quite good, but hearing the same ones repeatedly can grow dull. Watching plays in the theater is still better. I wonder, does Xie-xiong prefer 《The Story of the Pipa》 or 《The Headless Case》? I haven’t seen either yet…”
Not together with him, at least.
Xie Ying crushed the graphite-stained rice cake in his palm, gazing at the pitch-dark sky outside the oiled paper window. He said, “Watching a play isn’t difficult. There are new performances daily in Goulan Alley, but the crowds there are chaotic which I do not care for. On the contrary, it is not as tranquil as Yude Pavilion, where one can enjoy drinks as well. However, those only stage older renditions of 《The Story of the Pipa》 and haven’t yet performed the newly released 《The Headless Case》.”
Looking at Cui Xie, he added meaningfully, “I rather enjoy 《The Story of the Pipa》 more—the lyrics are better, the melodies are better, the stage design is meticulous, and the people behind the production are even better.”
Cui Xie responded with an equally loaded smile—for, in truth, 《The Headless Case of the Barracks》 had been written on his orders.
Anonymity was hard to maintain for a writer, but planners always managed to remain hidden. Cui Xie, the chief planner behind the Xie Case Files series of operas, zaju plays, and storytelling books, pulled out two pieces of silver, tossing them onto the table to settle the bill while calling out to the writer. He wrote a note, folded it, and instructed the waiter to find a courier to deliver it to the Cui Residence.
Once Cui Xie had packed up, Xie Ying walked out of the tea stall with him. Under the faint starlight breaking through the dark sky, he said, “I’ve troubled xiandi to host this humble meal. Let me return the favor shortly by treating you to a performance of 《The Story of the Pipa》.”
Taking the reins from the waiter, Cui Xie replied, “Then this xiandi shall graciously accept.”
The two mounted their horses together, riding side by side on chestnut and white steeds through the streets. Night fell early this time of year, and when they reached Yude Pavilion, the first watch had yet to begin. Many of the guests who had dined there had already left and the overnight guests had not yet arrived, and the play had yet to start.
The pavilion’s small stage was on the first floor, but the two chose an official booth on the second floor with a clear view of the stage, separated from others by folding screens on the right and left. While it wasn’t as private as home, it was far more comfortable than the cramped tea stall.
The seating arrangement, designed for ease of viewing, placed two chairs behind a table, meaning they no longer needed to awkwardly reverse their writing positions.
One wrote plays, and the other had reserved the theater for five consecutive days, even inviting others to watch. Neither man seemed as engrossed in the performance as the other patrons. It was only during the final act, when Xie Ying petitioned for Lady Wang’s commendation on stage, that Xie Ying placed his hand over Cui Xie’s on the table beneath. In a low voice, he murmured, “Don’t know who wrote this scene. It mirrors that moment between us so well.”
The surrounding crowd was noisy, filled with the clinking of cups and the din of conversation, nearly drowning out his voice. Yet, Cui Xie’s hearing was unusually sharp at that moment, catching every word clearly.
Lowering his voice, Cui Xie replied, “It was written by Yang Tinghe, Editor Yang. The drafting of imperial edicts falls under the jurisdiction of the Hanlin Academy. Back then, when you petitioned for my commendation in your capacity as a Jinyiwei officer, it was quite an extraordinary event. Yang-daren and the others still remember it…”
Cui Xie turned his hand to clasp Xie Ying’s in return, a light in his eyes brighter than the candle flames. “You always tried to distance yourself from me back then, but this connection of ours is now recorded in the Hanlin archives, witnessed by the court officials. How could it ever be erased?”
Hearing the name of Editor Yang startled Xie Ying, but before he could dwell on it, Cui Xie’s words struck straight at his heart, capturing his full attention.
Erased…
Back then, he had wanted to create distance between them, fearing the Jinyiwei’s infamous reputation. He was afraid that associating too closely with Cui Xie would tarnish the latter’s standing and prospects among the upright scholars, Clearist faction of the court. But if Editor Yang was willing to write this play, and Academician Li was willing to mediate… perhaps the Hanlin officials didn’t view his relationship with Cui Xie as inappropriate after all?
Did they think such matters inconsequential, or had his months of patrolling the capital left an impression on them—that he was someone of integrity, worthy of friendship and association?
If it were the latter, then so long as he remained impartial in his judgments, protected the upright officials, and proved himself a respectable officer, if Cui Xie continued to associate with him more frequently, it shouldn’t lead to anyone accusing him behind his back of currying favor with the Jinyiwei or anything like that.
Why, then, couldn’t he be bolder and hope for a future where the two of them might sit together not in the quiet and hidden corners where no one could see, but openly maintain a friendship within the court’s view?
His hand grew hot under Cui Xie’s, and his thoughts burned just as fiercely. Gripping the hand that held him tightly, Xie Ying turned his head slightly and offered a faint smile. “If it can’t be erased, then let it be.”
Cui Xie’s pulse raced, and he deeply regretted choosing a playhouse instead of a secluded private dining room for this meeting.
But it was too late for it now. Onstage, Feng Yun and Wang Yao were getting married under Colonel Xie’s supervision—a scene beloved by the audience. The cheers and clinking of coins thrown onto the stage rose and fell like waves. Soon, the play would end, and they would have to leave.
Unable to rewind time, Cui Xie could only tighten his hold on Xie Ying’s hand, gazing deeply at him.
It was as if Xie Ying understood his unspoken thoughts. He nodded slightly, pausing for a moment before glancing at the stage below. “Let’s head downstairs. We can still catch the unveiling scene, and it’ll be easier to leave without getting blocked by the crowd.”
Then let’s go. With the real Xie Ying here, Cui Xie found himself uninterested in the Colonel Xie of the play. Besides, the Colonel wouldn’t appear again after the wedding scene, much less in the bridal chamber.
After descending the stairs, they never ended up watching the wedding scene. Instead, they called for the attendant to bring their horses, mounted them, and prepared to part ways. The restaurant was closer to Xie Ying’s residence, so their paths didn’t align. Cui Xie cupped his hands in farewell, ready to leave first, but Xie Ying silently urged his horse forward and said, “It’s late. I’ll escort you home. If we run into the patrol, I can let them know to look out for you.”
Escorting such a long way… and the other still had work tomorrow. Instinctively, Cui Xie felt the urge to check his phone for the time. His hand reached for his waist before he stopped, a wry smile crossing his lips—what phone could exist in the Ming Dynasty?
Xie Ying reached over to take hold of Cui Xie’s reins and gently nudged his horse forward. “Let’s go. The later it gets, the colder it’ll be. Standing around won’t help—you’ll catch a chill.”
Yet along the way, they encountered neither patrolmen nor night watchmen, only the faint echoes of voices from afar and the occasional light spilling through the closed gates of grand courtyards. The crisp sound of hooves echoed through the dark streets, one heavier, one lighter. At some point, the riders had switched horses, with Cui Xie now on the chestnut-colored, sturdier steed.
The night wind was biting, and Cui Xie, having neglected to wear a fur-lined or padded cloak before leaving, was ill-prepared for the chill. Having just eaten, he risked catching a cold after riding in such weather for so long. What would happen if he were to fall ill?
Thoughtfully, Xie Ying shared part of his own outer garment with him, escorting him all the way home before finally halting his horse and retrieving the borrowed portion of his cloak. Cui Xie dismounted, leading his horse to the side and glancing at Xie Ying as he knocked on the side gate of the Cui Residence.
The gate creaked open, and a lantern extended through the gap, illuminating the path back to his home. Meanwhile, Xie Ying’s figure receded into the deep shadows of the night, growing more distant until it disappeared entirely.
Cui Xie stood at the gate, watching for a long time. It wasn’t until the gatekeeper stamped his feet against the cold that Cui Xie snapped out of it, drawing his gaze back from the endless alleyway. Turning, he stepped into the courtyard. Inside were warm lights, a cozy house, steaming soup and snacks, and his waiting family…
And a daunting pile of examination questions from past years.
There were only ten months—barely over three hundred days—left until the provincial exam in August.
Esteemed prodigies like Li Dongyang, Yang Tinghe, and Yang Yiqing were all counting on him to uphold the illustrious traditions of their mentorship and secure the jinshi title before turning nineteen. Even if they lowered their expectations, postponing the jinshi for three to six years, the juren qualification was non-negotiable for this attempt. Otherwise, where would their reputation as teachers go? How could they face the Crown Prince?
By the accounts of those prodigies, the imperial examinations were said to follow a certain pattern: “County exams are hard, prefectural exams are hard, provincial-level exams are the hardest; but the metropolitan and palace exams are comparatively easy.” Having effortlessly achieved the trifecta of the initial exams and written essays that impressed even the Hanlin officials, Cui Xie should theoretically breeze through the provincial-level juren exam.
After all, before the county-level exams, the topics had been small-scale, often with disjointed prompts requiring candidates to connect unrelated concepts. Merely breaking down the problem to come up with a decent answer could exhaust one’s energy. To craft a well-aligned essay, rich in detail and pleasing to the examiners, required deep knowledge of the classics, a nimble mind, and no small amount of luck.
The provincial and metropolitan exams, on the other hand, featured larger topics—full passages drawn from the sages, unaltered and straightforward. After each metropolitan exam, the court would publish model essays as guides for the style expected in the next provincial and metropolitan rounds. Soon after, the market would be flooded with imitation essay collections, often authored by newly-minted jinshi or even Hanlin scholars.
Even if he couldn’t write at their level, surely he could memorize them, couldn’t he?
It wasn’t as though his ancestors’ misfortune or past-life karmic debts would trip him up at this stage. Such hindrances might stop someone at the metropolitan exam, but surely not at the provincial one.
Yet Cui Xie alone knew he wasn’t one of those natural-born geniuses. At best, he was an overachiever with a sharp mind and relentless drive, not a prodigy like those Hanlin scholars. To prepare for the upcoming exams, he had started collecting past papers from his teachers as early as August, organizing a weekly schedule. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays were devoted to memorizing 《The Four Books》; Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays to 《The Five Classics》; and Sundays reserved for mock exams.
As for the Ming Dynasty’s lack of a weekday-based calendar—what did it matter? The day he began studying became Monday.
By the time he returned home, his grandparents were already asleep, and the rest of the household was silent, with no sound of voices. The gatekeeper escorted him to his courtyard with a lantern, while a kitchen servant brought water for washing, and the cook delivered warm porridge to soothe his stomach.
After sending them all off to bed, Cui Xie sat at his desk, slowly sipping the porridge in the half-lit room. Closing his eyes, he began reciting a passage from《 The Four Books》 he had reviewed earlier in the day.
It was a new essay by his teacher, one beginning with the phrase, “From Yao and Shun down to Tang…”
This piece differed from the plain, ancient-style essays Cui Xie usually preferred. It emphasized tonal rhythm and the techniques of “high and low, long and short cadences,” as well as the principles of “manipulating transitions and contrasts.”
Li Dongyang, revered as the literary master of the realm, was admired not only for his elegant poetry but also for his prose. His essays often incorporated poetic rhythms, carefully balanced pacing, and a deft use of empty words to soften tone. His parallelisms and antitheses were exquisitely harmonious.
While his teacher’s strengths lay in these areas, Cui Xie’s weaknesses coincidentally aligned. What better way to improve than through imitation?
Li Dongyang, with painstaking effort, didn’t expect Cui Xie to produce something entirely original. He only hoped the boy could imitate his style and smooth and mature out the ruggedness of his ancient prose characterized by simplicity and austerity.
Reading the essay over and over, Cui Xie gradually calmed his restless thoughts. Replacing the passion of romance with the fervor of ambition, he recited:
“The lives of sages follow fixed patterns. Some pass down their teachings in their own times; others leave their wisdom to future generations…”
TN: Hi everyone!! I had a good week but its getting busy again with grad school and research!
Announcement: We have set up a kofi and patreon account! If you would like to support us or get early access to advance chapters for Blood-Sucking Empress OR TMD OR my new novel, those options are available for you (in support us page)! I have just added a patreon tier for Transmigrating to the Ming Dynasty’s Imperial Examinations in which patreons can have access to a google document with ALL of my advanced translated chapters for the novel. Since I am a grad student, there should usually be at least 10 advance chapters in the document at a time, but depending on my schedules, there may be fewer or more. I’m currently extremely busy, but I have translated out some new chapters for you all! But, I will still post each week with the same schedule. Thanks!
Twin Dragons Translations 
Thank You for the new chapter (۶•౪•)۶❤
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