Chapter Sixty-Five: Reactions from All Sides

Not only was his pride wounded, but the humiliation echoed loudly.
"Zongping..." A fellow student beside Huang Zongping tugged at his sleeve, unsure how to comfort him. At a moment like this, silence spoke louder than words; Huang Zongping would have to find his own way through this trial, lest he become another cautionary tale like Qin Menghui.
Huang Zongping waved his hand in a forlorn gesture, indicating he was unharmed.
"If I was born for peace, why was he born as well?"
"Rest assured, I am not inferior to others. Such hardship will not defeat me. The upcoming metropolitan examination is the true battleground; then, we shall truly determine who prevails!"
A hint of color returned to his pale cheeks, pride flickering in his eyes. He was not yet beaten; a sliver of hope remained.
The gap between himself and Yi An was not as insurmountable as it seemed. Yi An had claimed the top spot, while Zongping was ranked in the second tier, separated only by a narrow margin.
Though it stung to be overshadowed, Huang Zongping was not one to shrink from defeat.
With this thought, he pushed his way out of the crowd, disappearing from sight at a measured pace.
This ordeal had tempered his resolve.
The third tier of the provincial exam was claimed by a scholar named Miao Shihai, whose obscurity made his achievement the most surprising among the top three.
Meanwhile, in an inconspicuous corner, another examinee frantically searched for his name—a disheveled, despondent figure, none other than Qin Menghui.
His gaze first fell on the grand characters at the very top, but with his fighting spirit long extinguished, he no longer harbored any desire to compete with Yi An. Now, his only wish was to see his name on the list. Ten years of study had led to this day; if his name was absent, his father might very well break his legs.
The mere thought sent a chill through him.
He glanced at the top three, then skipped to the bottom of the list, searching desperately.

But as his eyes reached the thirtieth name from the bottom, his face turned ashen. He knew his own abilities well enough—he ought to have ranked between thirtieth and fiftieth.
Though he had not performed at his best, he believed he should have made the cut.
Could it be...?
Qin Menghui dared not finish the thought, though his eyes remained fixed on the list, creeping ever upward. Soon, he reached the top ten.
His entire body trembled uncontrollably, drawing the attention of several onlookers, though they were hardly surprised.
Every unveiling of the results was the same: some rejoiced, others despaired. It was commonplace for countless to fail, some with faces drained of hope, others weeping bitterly.
Qin Menghui was overcome by a surge of anxiety, yet forced himself to finish reading the remaining names. In a daze, his mind seemed to short-circuit, and before long he had scanned every name, returning once more to the top.
He had failed.
He felt a premonition of pain in his hip, the world spinning around him. He nearly collapsed, heavy and unnoticed.
To those around him, he was just another insignificant loser—his presence neither added nor subtracted from their world.
By now, the scene had erupted in celebration. Successful scholars shouted in wild joy, their excitement filling the air.
Yet the greatest topic of conversation was the man who topped the list—Yi An.
The second and third tiers were mere supporting roles; on the day the results were posted, the spotlight always belonged to the champion. Soon, someone identified Yi An toward the back. At once, he felt countless eyes sweeping over him, leaving him uneasy and eager to escape.
He especially noticed many predatory glances—including those from the woman who had approached him earlier.
She clenched her teeth, realizing quickly that she had already investigated the local famous scholars—who was married, who was single. Yi An was the latest celebrated talent in Hangzhou, his reputation even outshining those long established.
Thus, news of Yi An’s circumstances soon spread.

As for this provincial exam, Yi An’s victory at the top surprised many, but it was not hard to accept. One capable of producing such works destined for posterity was no mere pretender; Yi An fully deserved his title.
Even Li Zhihe, upon hearing the news, was stunned for a moment before a surge of indescribable delight filled him. He patted Yi An’s shoulder with excitement.
"Brother Yi, I truly adore you!"
"Stop—such thoughts are dangerous. Even if you have them, they’re useless," Yi An replied, stepping back in earnest warning.
"But you passed! You passed!" Li Zhihe ignored this, his face radiant.
"I saw," Yi An replied, his expression calm, as if the matter was trivial.
But Li Zhihe was far from composed; he laughed heartily, his spirit shining. "Brother Yi, do you know how much I've won this time?"
Yi An, hearing this, suddenly understood, recalling Li Zhihe’s wager earlier. "How much did you bet?"
He distinctly remembered Li Zhihe claiming it was just a little harmless fun—yet his exuberance belied the claim.
"Not much, not much, just a few thousand taels of silver," Li Zhihe replied with a smile.
It had been a whim, perhaps inspired by an inexplicable confidence in Yi An, and he had staked almost everything he owned.
Some of the money was his own savings from years past; the rest had been forced upon him by his father after selling their inn.
The saying went, "Poor scholars, rich warriors," and it was no idle boast. The cost of his studies had been immense, but the winnings this time amounted to a fortune—enough to fund his cultivation for a long time to come.
Yi An was taken aback; a few thousand taels was no small sum, and Li Zhihe’s trust in him was overwhelming.
"Once our teacher hears, he’ll be shocked," Li Zhihe predicted.