Chapter 28 — The Guard’s Hand
On the fourth morning, the compound gates opened.
Candidates stumbled out in waves—some pale and hollow-eyed, some stiff with pride, some laughing too loudly as if noise could cover fear.
Families surged forward.
Mothers cried.
Fathers grabbed shoulders.
Vendors shouted that hot soup would fix everything.
I stood at the edge of the crowd, not pushing, eyes scanning.
Then I saw him.
Shen Yanci stepped out slower than most, posture straight, face calm, but the shadow under his eyes darker than I’d ever seen.
He held his exam kit like it weighed nothing.
But his shoulders looked heavier.
I moved toward him.
He saw me and paused, as if the sight of me made the noise fade.
“Nanzhi,” he said, voice rougher than usual.
I didn’t ask, "How was it?"
I didn’t ask, "Did you write enough?"
Instead, I reached up and brushed a bit of dust from his sleeve.
“Come back,” I said. “Eat.”
His throat moved.
Then he nodded.
“Alright,” he murmured.
As we turned, a guard at the gate called sharply, “Stop.”
My spine tightened.
The guard“s eyes were on Shen Yanci”s bag.
“Inspection,” he said.
Shen Yanci didn’t flinch. He set the bag down, loosened the ties.
The guard rummaged, rough and fast.
Inkstone. Papers. Cloth.
Then his hand paused.
He pulled out a small paper slip—one I recognized.
A prayer note.
Not hidden.
Not written with answers.
Just a simple line of blessing, folded neatly.
I had slipped it into Shen Yanci’s bag before dawn on exam day, a foolish act of hope.
The guard“s brows lifted. ”What“s this?”
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Shen Yanci’s expression stayed calm, but I saw the tightening in his jaw.
“It”s nothing, Shen Yanci said evenly.
The guard“s mouth curved. ”Nothing? Candidates can“t bring unauthorized paper.”
My blood went cold.
Families around us stared.
Whispers rose.
A scholar beside us muttered, “He”s done.
I stepped forward before fear could choke me.
“It”s mine, I said.
The guard’s gaze snapped to me.
“A woman,” he scoffed. “What business do you have here?”
I met his eyes calmly.
“My business,” I said, voice steady, “is making sure you don”t ruin a man“s life for a blessing.”
The guard“s mouth tightened. ”Rules are rules.
“Yes,” I agreed. “And you know the rule is about cheating.”
His eyes narrowed.
I continued, not louder, just clearer.
“That paper has no answers,” I said. “No text from classics. Nothing that helps an exam.”
The guard shook it out, eyes scanning.
It truly was only one line—written in my hand:
"Return safely."
His expression flickered.
Not softened.
But complicated.
The guard glanced at Shen Yanci, then at the crowd, then back at me.
He lowered his voice. “Bribery can also be written on ”blessings.
I smiled faintly. “Then read it aloud.”
The guard’s eyes flashed.
“Read it,” I repeated, sweet as honey. “If it”s bribery, everyone will hear.
A hush fell.
Even vendors paused.
The guard hesitated.
Then, grudgingly, he unfolded the slip and read, voice stiff:
“Return safely.”
The crowd blinked.
A few people laughed, startled and relieved.
The guard’s face reddened.
Shen Yanci’s gaze stayed steady.
I tilted my head. “Now,” I said softly, “are you satisfied?”
The guard shoved the slip back into the bag, irritated.
“Keep your nonsense at home,” he muttered.
Then he waved us away.
We walked quickly, my heart still pounding.
When we reached a quieter street, Shen Yanci stopped.
He looked down at me.
The warmest emotion I had ever seen in his eyes surged up like sunlight breaking through cloud.
“You”“ he began, then stopped, ears reddening. ”You“re fearless.”
I exhaled a shaky laugh. “No. I”m just tired of losing.
Shen Yanci“s hand found mine, squeezing once”firm, grateful, real.
“Then,” he said softly, “let”s stop losing.