Black and Red

On the day of the examination, clouds hung in the sky. Zheng Fanren noticed that whenever it was overcast, the clouds always seemed to take on the same shapes—almost identical every time. Perhaps the people of this world were used to it; only he, an outsider, sensed the oddity.

He let the carriage curtain fall and turned his head, meeting Luo Xue’s gaze. She was dressed simply today, yet remained strikingly beautiful.

Shade is rare in the summer, and the great black horse galloped with lively energy. But who could tell what mood the middle-aged woman driving the carriage was in?

By the time the sun broke through the clouds, their carriage had already arrived at the encampment for the Tai Xuan Institute. The sight of a thousand carriages gathered together was truly spectacular.

After alighting, Zheng Fanren looked around. Carriages stood every five or six paces, making him suddenly nervous. He clutched his book tightly, not noticing that his hands had dampened the pages.

Stretching out before him, the long, wide procession was flanked on both sides by dense rows of tents—over a thousand in all.

Luo Xue instructed Aunt Xiao to set up their tent. Seeing Zheng Fanren’s anxious expression, she smiled and teased, “Shall I sit the exam for you, brother?”

Zheng Fanren forced a bitter smile. “Can’t you say something useful for once?”

The tent was arranged quite comfortably, and Zheng Fanren found it rather amusing. He ate pastries alone, quickly abandoning any thoughts of studying or praying for luck. Since he was here, he might as well make the best of it.

He had no idea how, amidst so many tents, Ye Yinghua and his companions managed to find him.

Lu Qingsheng was not one for words; Ye Yinghua was their leader, leaving Fang Zizai to speak. He had yet to learn to mask his feelings, and now, with clear reluctance, he said, “We know you showed great talent at the banquet, but the Tai Xuan Institute’s exam is not about composing couplets or writing a few words. This time, we’ll prove our true abilities.”

Looking at him, Zheng Fanren almost laughed, but managed to answer in a serious tone, “You don’t need to prove anything to me, nor do I need your validation. As you said, calligraphy and couplets are just for entertainment at banquets.”

At that moment, a clear voice called from behind them, “Zizai, let’s go. The exam is starting soon! Why waste words on a coarse servant like him?”

It turned out several female students had followed the three. Zheng Fanren thought wryly, “So those with a bit of fame always attract admirers.”

The lead girl among them was delicate and pretty, though he didn’t know her name. She went on, “Don’t think you’re anything special just because your former mistress, Nangong Mo, spoke up for you at the banquet.”

Before Zheng Fanren could reply, Ye Yinghua, ever the gentleman, said, “Miss Lingyun, let’s be on our way.”

Watching their retreating figures, Zheng Fanren could only smile wryly. But his expression quickly soured, for that girl named Lingyun raised her voice in the crowd, “You three love-struck fools—Luo Xue is, after all, a courtesan. Is she really worth your embarrassment? And you—marrying a woman from a brothel—is that something to be proud of?”

The group of female students echoed her, while the three young men responded with quiet smiles, seeming to enjoy the girls’ indirect concern. Soon, Zheng Fanren caught a glimpse of Ye Yinghua’s attentive gestures and Miss Lingyun’s bashful, downcast look.

The Tai Xuan Institute boasted an enormous horse field, with thousands of spectators. The Han Empire prided itself as a nation of riders, so placing the equestrian exam first was only natural. The grandstand’s center, lavish in every respect, was reserved for dignitaries, including two proctors from the Sacred Academy.

Zheng Fanren was unaware of their arrival, mostly because they had come for him.

Occasionally, horses neighed on the field as examinees, clutching their number tokens, entered one by one and were randomly paired with military steeds. The Han revered martial prowess, so most candidates preferred riding to driving. Those still waiting stood outside the fence, watching intently. Some rode with flair, others ended up caked in mud. All understood that luck played a part in the exam: draw a gentle yet healthy steed, and your odds improved; get a wild, ill-tempered one, and you could only bemoan your fate.

Fortune, ever mysterious, was tightly controlled in the Han Empire. For instance, Senior Zhou Zitian personally assigned horses to the next generation. Thus, the horse that fell to Zheng Fanren was exceedingly docile—so much so, it was almost absurd. It was an old warhorse, so aged it was nearly dead.

Zheng Fanren had no interest in quarreling, nor in wasting his energy. Yet as he brooded, a white stallion suddenly drew every examinee’s gaze. Fear and wariness flashed in their eyes, and those who had already attempted the course were especially furious, for that wild beast had thrown three students already.

Now, a student in white rode the stallion at lightning speed, roaring with laughter as he went, while those who’d been tossed stamped their feet in frustration—among them, the athletic girl Lingyun.

Zheng Fanren hadn’t yet mounted his horse, but the scene made him laugh out loud.

As he drew a dagger from his sleeve, the white-clad student had already halted his steed—a speed that surprised even Zheng Fanren.

The youth in white glanced at Zheng’s horse, then at the dagger in his hand, and laughed boldly, “Ingenious! I am Gao Xian.”

Zheng Fanren replied with a smile, “I am Zheng Fanren.”

He nodded and mounted his horse, but no matter how he urged it, the old beast plodded on, unwilling to move. Lingyun noticed his predicament and quickly recovered from her disappointment, her laughter as radiant as if she’d tasted the finest honey.

With an abrupt motion, Zheng Fanren plunged the dagger into the old warhorse. Scalding blood spurted forth. Gao Xian leaped back, shouting, “You’re really something!”

Zheng Fanren burst into laughter and then shouted, “Old Black, burn with all your life!”

A wave of astonished cries swept the field. Whether they were candidates awaiting their turn or officers standing guard for safety, all eyes were drawn to a particular corner of the grass, where shock and disbelief filled every face.

Blood still misted behind the old black horse as it thundered away, leaving a strange red streak in the air. Passing Lingyun, she had no time to react before being splattered head to toe in crimson.

Zheng Fanren cheered, “Well done, Old Black! Magnificent—like a grand period!”

In the stands, Luo Xue sighed, “So you can ride after all. Perhaps I’ll go back and sleep.” She had only taken a few steps before puzzlement struck her. “Did Nangong Mo really let a servant ride? Grand period? Was he taught by his aunt?”

The candidates watched as the black horse shot from the herd like an arrow, tearing forward with terrifying speed—so fast no one could hope to catch up. Meanwhile, the girl standing outside the fence, her clothes splashed with bright red, left all speechless with shock.

At the judges' table, Mo Dao cursed, “Outrageous! Killing a horse is ill-omened. This candidate’s result is void!”

Among the Sacred Academy’s delegation, the younger man was utterly unconcerned and let the scores stand as they were.

The middle-aged companion spoke slowly, “It was a warhorse.”

The young man replied, “A warhorse should go that fast.”

The older man fell silent for a moment, then asked, “And if it doesn’t?”

The young man answered, deadpan, “Then you stab it in the backside.”

The middle-aged man smiled and said no more, while Mo Dao nevertheless recorded three bloody words: “Result Void.”