Chapter 61

Chapter 61

The palace exam arrived even sooner than expected on the first day of the third month.

During these days, the Young Marquis holed up at home, even canceling his rock-solid morning training.

Others assumed the Marquis's son was diligently preparing for the exam, but only the Young Marquis himself knew... it was basically lying down to die.

He remembered the questions for the provincial examination, but the original story skipped over the details of the palace exam, leaving him without any cheat sheet to prepare in advance. The Young Marquis secretly regretted it. If he'd known, he would've just handed in a blank exam. Perhaps the emperor would have been so angry as to forbid him from ever taking the exam again, and now he wouldn't be forced to take the palace exam before the emperor.

With so many capable ministers and scholars present, he was well aware of both his own and the original occupant's talents. Although he didn't know which kind soul had cut him some slack during the provincial exam, the palace exam was ultimately different. Real skill or just faking it would be obvious at a glance.

That Dog Emperor was notoriously unpredictable. If his true colors were revealed and he stirred up some unforeseen trouble... it really felt like the heavens were out to get him.

What was he supposed to do?

The original book didn't have a plotline about him taking the palace exam... Was the plot not completely set in stone after all?

Or perhaps, storylines that didn't involve Wen Yu were changeable?

Thus, three days before the palace exam, the Young Marquis visited the offices of the Ministry of Rites' Ceremonial Department and tracked down Su He, whom he hadn't seen in ages.

Su He was first surprised, then moved, his eyes growing slightly moist as he said, "I thought after parting at the Imperial Academy, it would be difficult to meet the Young Marquis again. I never imagined the Young Marquis would seek me out at my humble place. It seems you're a real fan of my stories."

However, Luo Qianyu grabbed his wrist, pulled him into the room, and asked in a low voice, "What will happen during this palace exam? How do you plan to write it?"

Su He looked puzzled, hesitating before saying, "The palace exam? What's worth writing about the palace exam... Not to mention Wen Yu has only been back in the capital for half a year, the late emperor also banned him from the imperial examinations for ten years. Wen Yu isn't participating."

Luo Qianyu was speechless.

Wen Yu isn't participating, but I am.

In utter despair, the Young Marquis knew Su He's path was a dead end. He could only brace himself and march to the execution ground. He asked offhandedly, "If not the imperial exams, what will you write about next?"

Su He stroked his chin, fell silent for a moment, pondered, and said, "I hear envoys from Zhao are due to arrive in the capital any day now. It got my creative juices flowing. Why not write a grand martial arts and archery tournament, where heroes from all over can show off their skills? The beautiful Wen is bound to be captivated. Wouldn't that be exciting?"

...

Have the *stock gongs* show off? Vying for the beauty's affection?

But Wen Yu's horsemanship, archery, and martial arts were all top-notch. Wanting the protagonist *shou* to be impressed... Was that even realistic? Who could possibly achieve it?

Furthermore, since the grand event would be held within the palace walls, and Wen Yu was a commoner with no official rank, how could he enter the palace without a recommendation? It went without saying he'd have to tag along with the Young Marquis.

Luo Qianyu was slightly stunned, a faint sense of foreboding suddenly welling up in his heart.

Among these various heroes... he wasn't included, was he?

A chill ran down the Young Marquis's spine. Not wanting to burden himself with more worries before the palace exam, he didn't press further. He simply gave Su He's shoulder a pat, "...Go ahead and write. I'll leave you to it. Make it good."

Su He clutched his notebook and nodded earnestly, "Mm."

.

The day before the palace exam, the old Marquis gifted his son a pair of new boots, symbolizing 'a smooth official career, rising step by step,' for good luck.

After all, the tribute scholars' caps, robes, and sashes were all specified for the palace exam, only the shoes had to be black.

However, the shoes his father gave him...

were just too sharp.

He couldn't quite put his finger on why. Perhaps the style was the latest style, the material was top-notch, and even the dark patterns were exquisitely detailed—understated yet chic, not flashy but radiating an elegant nobility.

Even Luo Qianyu, a modern person who had transmigrated into the book, couldn't stop sneaking glances at them.

Thus, on the day of the palace exam, the Young Marquis wore these boots.

Even Zhao Nian, who was usually such a nag, couldn't help but praise as he handed the exam basket into the carriage, "Young Marquis, these shoes are truly beautiful."

"Wrong," the Young Marquis corrected, "Truly handsome."

Although Zhao Nian didn't quite understand the meaning, he nodded, "Truly handsome, young master."

Just then, Wen Yu beside him suddenly leaned down, his fingertips moving to touch his ankle, and asked him, "Young Marquis, do these boots fit well?"

Fit well?

This was the ancient version of trendy brand shoes. Even if they pinched, he'd wear them. Before transmigrating, the Young Marquis loved collecting sneakers. In ancient times, this hobby was forced to stop. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but secretly, he loved them. He still couldn't quite believe his father had given them to him.

While he was lost in thought, Wen Yu had already gently placed his calf on his own knee, removed the boot, and his fingertips brushed over the youth's heel and ankle, asking again, "Does this area hurt?"

The Young Marquis's attention wasn't here. He didn't pay much heed, only vaguely responding, "Mmm... no."

...

Zhao Nian frowned almost imperceptibly.

Why did he feel that he, this Tutor who had accompanied the Young Marquis for three years... was somewhat superfluous?

No, when did their relationship improve?

Wasn't Guard Wen previously averse to this duty? Since he was forced into it, why would he be attentive? Now, he was actually removing the young master's shoes and boots right in front of him, doing it so naturally and skillfully... Could it be an act?

And the Young Marquis never let anyone touch his feet. Young Master Lou had once removed them to check an injury, and later, whenever the Young Marquis saw him, he would step on Young Master Lou's feet. Fortunately, that person didn't get angry and even indulged the young master, letting him vent.

But at this moment... the Young Marquis didn't kick him away?

What exactly had Wen Yu done?

Had he bullied his young master?

Zhao Nian felt unsettled, a faint trace of worry rising in his heart. However, upon hearing the young master's next words, he instantly returned to normal.

"Not possible, don't even think about it," the Young Marquis said coldly.

But Wen Yu said, "Just a single layer of silk cloth padding."

The Young Marquis immediately rejected it, even pulling his foot back, "No. Before entering, the supervising guards conduct routine body searches, which include removing shoes. How can I let others see me wearing such padding?"

"No one would laugh at the Young Marquis."

Seeing this, Zhao Nian felt slightly relieved and said, "The palace exam is strict. If padding inside the shoe is deemed suspicious, it will inevitably attract a search and interrogation. It's better not to pad them, avoiding much trouble."

Just as Guard Wen was about to speak, the coachman's voice came from outside the window, reminding, "Young master, we've arrived."

Luo Qianyu got out of the carriage, ready to meet his doom.

At the third quarter of the mao hour, bells and drums sounded in unison. Officials from the Ministry of Rites held yellow registers and led the way as over three hundred tribute scholars filed in.

And here, Luo Qianyu encountered an unexpected person.

As soon as the man spotted him, a tremor ran through his shoulders, then his whole body shuddered violently, as if overcome with emotion. He pushed through the bustling crowd, his hands firmly grasping the young man's wrists.

It was so abrupt that even the Young Marquis couldn't help but shoot a surprised look. Suddenly, he heard the other call out, "...Brother Qianyu!"

Huh?

That voice sounded somewhat familiar.

Looking him over carefully, Luo Qianyu's gaze froze, and he asked uncertainly, "Chen Boyu?"

Chen Boyu nodded. "That's right, it's me."

Though unexpected, upon reflection, it was also to be expected. This was the destitute scholar he had rescued outside the tavern months ago—Chen Boyu.

The prodigy who had claimed the top honors, a talent on par with past luminaries like Wen Yu and Lin Jingyan, a future Number One Scholar.

They hadn't crossed paths during the provincial exams, yet here they were meeting at the palace examination.

It was no wonder he hadn't recognized him. Chen Boyu had changed. Once starving, with sunken cheekbones, worn and haggard from caring for his younger brother, he had looked utterly weary.

Now, he had shaken off that exhaustion. His features were as refined as a painting, his eyes bright with spirit.

Not only was his face as clean and fair as frost-glazed porcelain, but his eyes also shone. His every movement carried an air of elegant grace, like a pine branch bathed in snow, as if he had regained a vigorous and resilient bearing.

Luo Qianyu gave a light smile and clasped his hands in a salute. "Brother Boyu, it's been a while. I trust you've been well."

Seeing this, Chen Boyu also cupped his hands in return, unable to conceal the joy in his eyes. His words were filled with emotion: "I had long believed that Brother Qianyu possessed profound learning and exceptional talent, certain to emerge victorious in the provincial exams. To reunite here in the Golden Hall today is just as I expected!"

Hearing this, the Young Marquis offered a stiff smile, feeling inexplicably guilty. He thought to himself that his presence here was merely an accident, so he changed the subject: "How have your studies been, Brother Boyu?"

Chen Boyu gave a bitter smile, hesitated for a moment, then voiced his worries with a sigh: "To be frank, Brother, for this examination, I truly have no confidence of success. There are several hundred tribute scholars here, the entire hall filled with erudite scholars and men of practical talent... This time, I only seek to secure a minor post. Upon returning home, if I can raise my younger brother and barely make ends meet, that will be enough."

But the Young Marquis stepped forward, grasped his shoulder, and lowered his voice:

"Chen Boyu, you will be the Number One Scholar."

Upon hearing this, Chen Boyu's face showed astonishment. Then, coming to his senses, he turned his face away: "...Young Marquis, please don't make fun of me."

The young man raised an eyebrow, folding his arms, his words chiseled and clear: "I never engage in bad investments. Back then, when I helped you, and not someone else, it was because I saw your future official career as promising, with a bright future. If you are so lacking in ambition, you are not permitted to call me brother. I am precisely such a person—driven by immediate gain and profit-seeking. Do you not believe me?"

Chen Boyu first shook his head, then nodded. When he looked at him again, his gaze gradually brightened, his resolve firming somewhat. He gave a solemn bow and said, "I am honored by the Young Marquis's regard. I will certainly exert my utmost, wield my brush and unfurl the scroll, to become someone worthy of standing shoulder to shoulder with Brother Qianyu."

Luo Qianyu gave an "Mm," not taking it to heart, and said, "Empty promises are useless. Better to grasp the present, focus your mind on the tip of your brush, and think of nothing else."

But just as the words fell, the Young Marquis suddenly stopped in his tracks, his expression slightly dazed.

Seeing the young man's odd look, Chen Boyu hurriedly asked, "Brother Qianyu, what's wrong?"

The Young Marquis's shoulders stiffened slightly, and he smiled at him: "It's nothing. Let's go."

Why does it feel...

This shoe is a bit...?

When he first put them on, he didn't notice anything, and even during the entire carriage ride, there was no discomfort whatsoever. But after abandoning the carriage and walking a full mile on foot along the palace road, the Young Marquis began to feel something was a little off.

His gait felt subtly awkward.

Especially where Wen Yu's fingertips had touched, it felt tightly constricted, as if bound by an invisible metal band, pinching the skin and flesh with some pain.

The young master pursed his lips, showing no outward sign, and continued forward with the procession of tribute scholars. However, he walked slower and slower, his originally leading figure unconsciously falling back to the middle or rear of the group.

Before long, the young man's steps began to limp, though he forced his posture to remain upright, like a young fawn learning to walk, striving desperately not to let others notice his hobbling.

Damn it, such good-looking shoes could still chafe!?

It was bad enough that his knees couldn't take hardship, but now his feet were this delicate too... Could it be that Wen Yu's words were actually true?

Luo Qianyu let out a low sigh. This body was really too uncooperative.

If he had known earlier, he should have listened to Wen Yu and padded them with something soft...

No, he'd rather die than pad them.

He couldn't indulge this delicate habit. After he faked his death and escaped, he would surely wander alone, drifting in foreign lands. By then, he would no longer be the young master, with no one to turn to, no one to care for him, and certainly no soft pads or knee guards. If he couldn't even endure this little hardship, how could he undertake long journeys and conceal his identity?

Having made up his mind, the young man's steps became steadier. However, never mind the distant future.

Why was the imperial palace built so large?

How much longer did he have to walk...

Before entering the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the master of ceremonies loudly announced the rites. According to protocol, they solemnly performed the three kneelings and nine prostrations. As he rose, Luo Qianyu stole a glance at the emperor seated on the dragon throne. Dressed in bright yellow dragon robes, just as their gazes were about to meet, he quickly lowered his head.

Afterwards, the attendant eunuchs slowly approached, holding bright yellow examination papers, distributing them in turn.

The Young Marquis unrolled his paper. This time, the policy question was personally set by His Majesty, still concerning governance, statecraft, and the people's livelihood—topics he was not adept at and required him to improvise and talk nonsense.

By dusk, the examination supervisors began collecting the papers.

When Luo Qianyu stood up, his knees were numb, and his feet inside the boots had lost almost all sensation. He swayed, nearly stumbling. At least it was over. Barring any accidents, there wouldn't be such torturous major exams in the future. He would change his boots as soon as he returned to the carriage; if necessary, he'd wear Wen Yu's.

Once he steadied himself and was about to withdraw with the others, he was suddenly stopped by a young eunuch.

"Young Marquis, please stay," he said. "His Majesty has decreed, summoning you..."

"Enter the hall again?" The Young Marquis's throat tightened, his teeth lightly chattering.

"Indeed," the eunuch bowed. "Please follow me, Young Marquis."

Luo Qianyu: "..."

He was going to perish together with that Dog Emperor!

When he arrived at the Imperial Study, this time, unlike before, the emperor was also busy.

Seeing him enter, he instructed him: "Sit over there. Sort out the maps and clearly mark the commanderies and counties."

The Young Marquis sat at the desk below, picked up a brush with suspicion, and gently set it down.

What he was asked to do was classify the historical maps from the storeroom according to territorial changes, marking the names of abolished commanderies and counties. It was tedious and required research, a task that would keep him by the Emperor's side for a long time, quite time-consuming.

Why call him for this?

For such work, why not summon a Hanlin compiler or an official from the Ministry of Rites?

The Young Marquis's hope of leaving the palace early was dashed. He could only lower his head, imperial brush to paper, sorting through the maps one by one.

...

Twilight settled, and palace servants began lighting the lamps.

The youth stifled a yawn, dabbing at the corner of his eye. While the Emperor was distracted and his robe hem provided cover, the Young Marquis shifted the brush in his hand and quietly slid his foot partway out of his boot.

The chafing at his ankle eased somewhat, though the skin underneath was probably already red, maybe even bruised.

He just *loved* this body of his.

Just as he was inwardly fuming, a light tinkling of jade pendants sounded from outside the hall, followed by an announcement. The eunuchs all knelt in salute. The Young Marquis was startled—it was actually the Eldest Princess who had arrived.

Out of the corner of his eye, Luo Qianyu saw the Princess enter. He offered a slight bow and addressed her as “Your Highness.” Once he had resumed his seat at the desk, he couldn’t help stealing a glance at the Emperor. He noticed that not only did the Emperor’s expression remain unchanged, but he didn’t even lift his eyes, as if he were already accustomed to such visits.

Not just the Emperor—even the Young Marquis had grown used to it.

Although the Princess often acted unpredictably and came out with shocking remarks, it was, after all, her condition. Despite her noble status, within the vast palace she lived as if she were invisible. As long as the Emperor paid no mind, she affected no one.

Neither of them paid her any further attention and continued with their own tasks.

The Princess behaved as absurdly as ever: she drank all the tea on the imperial desk, tossed the paperweight like a frisbee—startling the servants into dodging—and later draped strings of court beads around her neck and wrists, wearing them all over like ornamental tassels.

The Young Marquis quietly lowered his gaze, thinking to himself, *Truly a mad emperor. Even in her madness, the Princess instinctively avoids His Majesty—perhaps subconsciously she dares not disturb what the Emperor is focused on.*

Just as he was pondering this, he suddenly felt a chill at his feet.

The boot he had partly slipped off had been tugged away.

Luo Qianyu’s heart skipped a beat, and he whispered, “…Your Highness!”

Before the words fully left his mouth, his other boot was also pulled off.

Luo Qianyu felt as if he had lost three of his seven souls. Watching the figure move away, he opened his mouth but feared raising his voice would draw the Emperor’s attention. He could only silently pray that the Princess would return his boots.

Unexpectedly, after circling the imperial study and emerging from behind the Emperor’s desk, the Princess’s hands were empty.

Luo Qianyu: “…?”

Then, the Princess inverted a crystal bowl on her head like a hat, paid him no further attention, and skipped out of the imperial study.

One incense stick’s time later.

The Emperor set down his brush and placed the finished memorial aside.

Looking down, he discovered a pair of fine boots beneath the dragon-carved desk.