Chapter 62 - The Smile Beneath the Blade

The sun broke over the Imperial Academy like a blade drawn slow — cold light spilling across the courtyard's rows of waiting candidates. The crowd pressed close under fluttering banners, nobles craning forward, merchants whispering wagers on whose sons or daughters would wear Qi's new honors.

At the front, senior ministers assembled behind a long lacquered table. Crimson drapes framed their stern faces. Among them sat Minister Li, hands folded, eyes dark and calm as still water.

Ziyan stood in the throng with Lianhua and Li Qiang. Her throat was dry, her mark a restless ember beneath her sleeve. Across the way, Yuan Jie and the merchant daughters stood with easy smiles, fans fluttering, certain of the outcome.

An official stepped forward, unfurled a scroll heavy with fresh ink.

"By decree of His Majesty's Ministry of Rites and with final sanction from the Imperial Examinations Board, we announce those who have excelled — to be immediately awarded positions within Qi's bureaucracy and honored before court."

He paused, eyes sweeping the crowd.

"By unanimous record of merit across all five trials — despite marked attempts at sabotage — the highest collective rank is hereby granted to the alliance of Li Ziyan, formerly of the Li ministerial branch, accompanied by Lianhua of humble registry and Li Qiang of unsealed record."

A hush sucked the breath from the courtyard. It held a heartbeat too long — then shattered into astonished murmurs.

Ziyan felt her vision blur. Lianhua's gasp was sharp in her ear, Li Qiang's rough exhale almost a laugh.

Across from them, Yuan Jie's fan stilled mid-air. One of the merchant daughters swayed slightly, eyes wide in pale horror.

The official continued, voice smooth but edged.

"The examiners note with distinction this group's honest fortitude under repeated obstruction and quiet collusion by certain other houses. It is recorded that no bribery nor illicit preparation touched their hands."

The words fell like stones into a still pond, sending shockwaves through the ranks of bright-robed nobles.

Then the official's tone hardened.

"Conversely — let the record also stand. The alliance led by Yuan Jie, with merchant affiliates under the Golden Lotus contracts, is found guilty of employing hidden slips, tampering with examination ink, and improperly replacing tools to disadvantage rivals."

Yuan Jie's mouth opened — no sound came. A faint, broken whimper escaped one merchant daughter.

Minister Li rose. His robes rippled as he stood, face utterly calm.

"Bring them forward."

Guards seized Yuan Jie and his companions. Yuan Jie jerked against their grip, voice pitching high with panic.

"Do you know who I am? Who my father is? We hold contracts on half your grain caravans — you are a minor Education official! My family could buy your rank thrice over—"

Minister Li's eyes turned on him, colder than any drawn sword.

"And yet Qi does not barter its future. Twenty strokes. Here, before all gathered. Let the Empire see what becomes of deceit."

The first blow landed with a sickening crack. Yuan Jie let out a strangled sound. By the fourth, he sobbed openly, silk robes bunching under blood and sweat. The merchant daughters shivered, hands clamped over pale mouths.

By the time it ended, he lay collapsed, fan shattered, jeweled hairpins scattered like fallen teeth.

Minister Li waited until the hush turned heavy.

Then he spoke, voice carrying clear across the silent stones.

"Qi stands at the edge of greater war than any since Taizu's throne was first carved. We must feed armies to hold Xia at bay. We must sing poems so our people remember what peace sounds like. We must draft decrees that weigh justice even amid fields sown with corpses. We must remain an Empire worth fearing — and envying. Not a hollow relic stuffed with silk and lies."

His eyes swept the crowd. They all bowed low, even those who a day ago had smirked at Ziyan's humble band.

Ziyan herself felt her stomach twist. So this was his dream of Qi: bright on the outside, iron nails hidden inside. A dream built from the blood of peasants who would never see these courtyards.

The ceremony dispersed in uneasy ripples. Attendants carried Yuan Jie away on a low stretcher, blood dripping onto neat flagstones. Nobles gathered in tight knots, voices hushed with new caution.

Lianhua squeezed Ziyan's hand so hard it hurt. Li Qiang stood just behind them, silent, but when she glanced up, she saw the faintest curve at the corner of his mouth. It was not joy — more grim satisfaction.

They turned to go, but a quiet voice stopped them.

"Li Ziyan."

Her father stood nearby. No hint of pride showed on his calm face.

"Walk with me."

Her stomach dipped. Behind her, Lianhua tensed. Li Qiang took a step, hand brushing his old blade hilt, then dropped it with a shallow nod — letting her go.

They passed through an arch hung with yellow lanterns into a shaded scholar's path lined by low ponds. The blossoms here had already begun to brown, petals floating on dark water like tiny, rotting boats.

For long moments they walked without speaking.

Finally, Minister Li paused, looking out over the pond.

"You embarrassed yourself in your early trials. Weak strokes, hesitant words. But you did not break. You drew your enemies close with your own stumbles. I wonder if you even realize the power in being underestimated."

Ziyan said nothing. Her throat felt tight, her mark a steady pulse of something untrustworthy under her sleeve.

"Qi needs brilliance. Poetry to soothe farmers who have given too many sons to war. Decrees to keep the merchants trading even when fields burn. Swords that remember they serve books — not the other way around."

His head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing.

"It may need a phoenix's rise. Even if that phoenix must burn half its own feathers to light the sky."

Her heart slammed painfully. So he knows. Or at least suspects more than she dared think.

Then he stepped closer, lowering his voice to a near whisper.

"Tomorrow, you will be summoned again — this time to speak before a smaller council on future assignments. Do not shrink from it. Nor show too much eagerness. Let them think you a puzzle worth solving, not an arrow aimed at any throat."

He turned to go, robes whispering. Over his shoulder he added,

"Do not mistake the court's applause for safety. It rarely claps for the same person twice."

Ziyan stood by the pond long after he vanished, watching petals gather in slow spirals. Her breath shook.

From somewhere distant came the faint roll of drums from the palace walls, echoing over the rooftops — reminders that Qi still armed itself, even while it played at poems and painted ranks.

She pressed her hand over her mark. It pulsed once, darkly warm, like a secret laughing under her skin.