Chapter 66: Before Setting Sail, Part 1

Huang the Xiucai, who had risen early and sat upright on the exam bench, silently broke into a grin in the candlelight at this moment, his mouth splitting wider and wider until even his back teeth showed.

He first quietly pondered for a while, then from the twenty-four answer sheets he had brought, he carefully picked out twelve draft scrolls first — all these papers had been registered at the Provincial Administration Commission office; his name, age, native place, three generations' names, and specialty classic were written at the head of each scroll, and not only were seals stamped across the perforated seams, but the seal officer's name was also imprinted with a long strip seal at the end of each scroll, twelve sheets each for the final copy and the draft.

This was one advantage of organized crime: someone had already thought of every place where a slip-up could occur. Huang Zhicheng did not rush to copy the eight-legged essays he had long memorized onto the final scrolls; instead, following the contingency plan arranged beforehand, he wrote and scribbled on the draft scrolls, putting on an appearance of racking his brains, weighing every word and phrase. For a literary plagiarist like him, there was still plenty of time now; he absolutely had to keep his cool, keep his cool.

The days slipped by, and in the blink of an eye it was the seventeenth of the eighth month; Huang Ping, Xiucai Huang's provincial examination journey in the seventh year of the Tianqi reign had reached its end. The Transmigrators, who had gotten word as soon as the first session ended, had already celebrated early.

Months of hard work had finally not been in vain; that idea which had started out somewhat as a joke had now succeeded — the Crossing Faction had actually managed to cook up a "genuine fake." Damn, was that satisfying!

Huang Zhicheng himself was also full of emotion; fortunately, there were still some days before the results were posted, so he still had time to prepare — yes, to prepare to be a lord.

Taking advantage of still being a transparent Xiucai no one paid attention to, he made several hurried trips to Tangzhuang these days, mainly to nail down his future contact person, method of communication, and logistical supply issues, and incidentally to return the "servant" who had accompanied him for so long to the Company.

It must be understood that according to the plan, once he passed the Provincial Examination, he could no longer openly come to Tangzhuang. Henceforth, except in emergencies, he could only communicate with the Company through his contact person or the Equipment.

However, the contact person had not yet been decided — quite a few Transmigrators currently aspired to be the spy chief; these past few days, five or six spy-fi emperors had been busy at the Company, spraying criticism at each other on stage and canvassing for votes off stage. Huang Zhicheng went twice and found this bunch tearing into each other with raging fervor; he had no choice but to take a package of silver and head back to the city first.

With a few days left before the results were posted, he went out to find a human broker and first hired a rough-work couple for his own courtyard to temporarily handle miscellaneous chores — luxuries like a mansion steward and maidservants would have to wait until after he formally passed the Provincial Examination; at present, he was still an ordinary Xiucai and naturally could not be too ostentatious.

This couple were Hangzhou Natives; the woman cooked and swept, the man did the heavy and clumsy work. In hiring people now, Huang Zhicheng deliberately chose locals with traceable roots, which also conformed to the practices of official households.

He took out silver and gave it to the manservant, instructing him to exchange it for some good-quality Copper coins and, on the way back, to buy some wine and fruit to have on hand. He passed a few more days in uneasy anticipation, staying home quietly according to plan; a man with a guilty conscience should not join the bustle of "snatching a son-in-law beneath the exam results board." He waited until the morning of the third day of the ninth month, when the sound of wind and percussion instruments clamoring arose from the Street Entrance.

"Good tidings! The esteemed master of this residence, Lord Huang, courtesy name Ping, has passed the Zhejiang Provincial Examination with high honors, placing thirty-third! May the capital gazette successively record your name on the Golden A-list!"

Even though he had long been mentally prepared, at this moment, as Huang Zhicheng stood at the courtyard gate, listening to the herald announce the name and watching the neighbors buzzing with discussion before his door, he still felt dizzy for just a moment; he steadied himself against the wall, shook his head slightly, and only then came back to his senses.

He rewarded the heralds with Copper coins, rewarded them with wine, and brought out fruit to distribute to the neighbors who came to offer congratulations. Xiucai Huang — no, Lord Huang — was busy until the lamps were lit before he finally sent away wave after wave of people who had come to announce the good news and the neighbors. Only then did he have a moment to recall his own ranking.

According to the materials brought from Later Generations, the Xiucai surnamed Han whom he had supplanted would originally have passed the Provincial Examination ranked thirty-fifth — this position met the Transmigrators' requirements: too high a ranking would attract too much attention, too low a ranking would be somewhat embarrassing in future social engagements, so a position like thirty-fifth was just right.

Yet the final result was that Huang Zhicheng passed the Provincial Examination ranked thirty-third. Now, as he calmed down and thought it over carefully, he probably found the reason: calligraphy, it could only be the calligraphy.

Before Crossing Over, he had been a forger of paintings and had dabbled in several script styles. In this Provincial Examination, he had used the Censorate Style to answer the papers; since the answers had long been prepared, he had ample time to write the characters beautifully. Looking at it now, it must have been this tiny difference that raised his ranking two places higher than the Han-surnamed examinee in history.

Once he figured out the key point, he went off Happily to rest. The next few days, Lord Huang was busy beyond compare: doing an awkward dance with everyone at the Deer Calling Banquet, networking and making close friends in all directions at the same-year gathering, and sending gifts slightly above the going rate to both his chief examiner and his section examiner — for no other reason than to beg the two gentlemen to firmly remember this fresh face.

As busy as he was on the official front, privately his household was just as crowded with visitors: those begging to become slaves of a Provincial Graduate household, those seeking to donate land, those seeking to acknowledge him as godfather, gift-givers, matchmakers, those pawning their daughters...

Amidst his hundred pressing affairs, Lord Huang still had to find time to select a steward, select a mansion, and select maidservants. Fortunately, this was still the Great Ming, and the crime of possessing huge assets of unknown origin had not yet been invented; otherwise, a certain someone would have to launder money first, and that would truly be the death of him.

Flowers woven into brocade, flames licked by boiling oil. Even in Hangzhou City, where Xiucai were as worthless as dogs and Provincial Graduates walked every street, as one of the hundred outstanding talents who had distinguished themselves from over ten thousand licentiates, having successfully squeezed into the ruling class at an acceptance rate no less daunting than the civil service exams of Later Generations, Huang Ping, Huang the Filially Upright, was still in the highlight moment of his life during this recent period.

Let us ignore for now how the new Provincial Graduate indulged in arrogance and extravagance; let us turn back time a few days. On October 11, 167, the third day of the ninth month in the Lunar Calendar — the very same day Lord Huang passed the Provincial Examination — another major event, one sufficient to affect the course of history in this plane of existence, was quietly unfolding.

Gusts of autumn wind blew; dark gray, dense clouds filled the sky, the morning light steeped in a thick flavor of desolation. Cold Dew had just passed a few days ago, and waves of chill were already seeping through the city of Hangzhou and its outskirts, much earlier than in previous years. The abnormal climate of the Late Ming Little Ice Age was manifesting itself ever more clearly upon this land.

The originally imposing, bustling troop-dispatched oath-taking ceremony, on such a morning, had inexplicably become somewhat desolate and silent.

At the newly built bluestone river dock in front of Tangzhuang, several Sand Ships were moored in a row. The two largest ones were now packed with people, who were either whispering in low voices or patting each other on the arms, saying: "Take care!"