The courtyard was so silent that even the breeze seemed afraid to disturb the gathering of fragile hopes and polished egos.
Lanterns cast long gold pools across the stone. Each pool was broken by the shadows of waiting candidates, all breath held as attendants unrolled the final silk scrolls. The judges stood close by, their faces carved from old ivory, unreadable in the failing light.
A young clerk with a thin voice began to read.
"By decree of the Ministry of Rites and with sanction of the Imperial Examination Board, the following alliances are approved to advance…"
Names rippled forth — elegant surnames paired with glittering merchant families. Yuan Jie's group was called swiftly. He offered Ziyan a slow, deliberate nod, mouth twisted in triumph. The merchant daughters with him tittered softly behind their sleeves.
The reading stretched on. Ziyan felt her breath shorten. Her chest squeezed until she wondered if she'd faint. Beside her, Lianhua's hand tightened on her pipa so hard the lacquer threatened to crack. Li Qiang simply stared ahead, jaw locked, old scars standing out in stark relief.
More names. More measured nods from smug heirs. The last scroll began to curl under the clerk's trembling hand.
"And by the narrowest margin of collective virtue — for there were significant concerns of discord — the alliance of Li Ziyan, of the defunct Li branch, is advanced to the fourth round."
There was no applause. Only a soft, collective exhale, almost pitying. The clerk did not look at them as he lowered the scroll.
A faint laugh drifted across the courtyard. One of the merchant daughters covered her mouth.
"Advanced — but how hollow it rings, scraped along by the mercy of a brush," she murmured.
Yuan Jie's smile was cold.
"This is merely postponing disgrace. The next round weighs previous scores twice as heavily. Any slip and they are gone."
Ziyan's knees weakened. She drew in a slow breath, feeling her phoenix mark pulse beneath her sleeve. It wasn't reassuring — it burned, almost accusing, as if disgusted by her weakness.
When the crowd began to disperse, Li Qiang stalked ahead without a word. His shoulders were coiled like a drawn bow. Lianhua fell in behind them, her face pale, eyes lowered.
They walked back to their rented quarters through streets that seemed to leer. Even vendors whispered as they passed — by now rumors moved faster than ink.
Inside their small courtyard, they sank down on worn mats. A single lantern between them cast light that only deepened the hollows under their eyes.
Lianhua was the first to speak. Her voice was a ragged thread.
"He forced me to follow that hollow phoenix song. I wanted to play of hearth fires after war, of soldiers returning to wives — but her fan cut my breath. I sounded like a wretched novice."
Ziyan swallowed. "I know. They twisted my decree too. The judges barely let me finish once Yuan Jie spoke. I... hesitated. They marked that, I saw it."
Li Qiang's hands curled around his knees.
"That merchant girl turned my plan to mud. Said my granaries would breed rebellion, that my stockades were insults to Qi's grandeur. And the judges listened."
He let out a harsh laugh. "The heir with me even suggested ceremonial feasts instead of food stores. And they nodded. They want pageants over walls. I am a soldier — I will never be more to them."
For a long moment, none of them spoke. The night pressed close, carrying faint echoes of laughter from wealthier quarters — where other alliances toasted their comfortable advancement.
Ziyan's mark burned again. She pressed her hand over it as though to quiet a living creature.
"The next round is said to be the most severe yet," she finally whispered. "Oral examinations before panels of senior ministers — our scores from today will weigh twice. They will watch for any falter, any lack of grace."
Lianhua's eyes shimmered. "Meaning even if we're perfect, we climb from a pit they dug for us. If we slip at all, we fall out forever."
Li Qiang nodded once. "Let them see we can bleed and stand still. We have no gilded cousins. No estates to retreat to. This is all we have."
Ziyan looked between them. Her throat felt raw.
"Then tomorrow, we become sharper. We cut back with every answer, every bow. If they see us as weeds — let us root so deep they cannot pull us out without ripping open the Empire's own soil."
Lianhua gave a soft, humorless laugh. "A brothel girl, a homeless blade, a ruined minister's daughter. That's the Empire's bright future."
"Better than another court of rotting jewels," Li Qiang growled.
They sat together until the lantern burned low, each lost to thoughts heavy as stone. Outside, the capital shifted restlessly, drums from the palace wall echoing faintly — reminders that war preparations never slept.
Above them, stars crawled behind thin clouds, indifferent to all the fragile hopes or coming humiliations below.