Ch 115: Transmigrated to become a Koi Husband

On the day the little fish transformed into a human form, it was the ninth day of the eighth lunar month—coincidentally also the day Qin Zhao achieved the “Triple Top Scholar” honors. Jing Li and Qin Zhao decided to mark this date as their child’s official birthday. However, since the provincial examination was only a few days away, the two did not hold a grand celebration.

Instead, the family shared a simple dinner to commemorate the occasion.

This year’s provincial examination was scheduled for the thirteenth day of the eighth lunar month at the Gongyuan examination hall. As per tradition, the exam consisted of three rounds, each lasting three days, spanning a total of nine days.

Thankfully, it was autumn, so the nights were not excessively cold. Otherwise, with Qin Zhao’s delicate constitution, the thought of him enduring such a long stay in one of those tiny examination rooms made Jing Li uneasy.

Still, all the necessary preparations had to be made.

Since Qin Zhao had no companions from his hometown to attend the exam with him this time, Jing Li personally escorted him to the gates of the Gongyuan.

Before parting, Jing Li meticulously checked the items in the small bamboo basket again: “Clothes, brushes, ink, scented sachet, dried meat…”

“I’ve already checked several times; there won’t be any issues,” Qin Zhao said, snatching the basket away to stop Jing Li from repeating the process he’d already done countless times since morning.

This wasn’t his first examination—why was Jing Li still acting like it was?

Qin Zhao thought for a moment, then instructed, “Once the exam is over, I’ll come home by myself. Don’t foolishly wait here, understood?”

“I’m not a fool,” Jing Li muttered, pausing before quietly adding, “Who would willingly wait outside anyway…”

Qin Zhao smirked. “Wasn’t it a certain ‘little fish’ who stood outside the whole day during the county examination?”

Jing Li’s face flushed at the remark, and he pushed Qin Zhao toward the Gongyuan gates. “Hurry up, or they’ll call your name!”

It was still early in the morning, but a crowd had already gathered outside the Gongyuan. Quite a few people noticed Qin Zhao and Jing Li’s arrival, turning their heads to look.

Thanks to Zhao Li’s rising prominence, Jing Li had become equally well-known in the literary circles of the provincial capital. This intelligent, handsome, and capable young husband had quietly become the dream partner for many scholars.

Noticing the gazes, Qin Zhao glanced around briefly before pulling Jing Li into his arms, discreetly shielding him with his wide sleeves.

He lowered his head and kissed Jing Li lightly on the forehead. “Go home now. Too many people are looking—I’m getting jealous.”

“Can you focus on something more serious with the provincial exam coming up?” Jing Li nearly laughed in exasperation.

Could someone explain to him why his mature and composed Qin Zhao was becoming increasingly childish?

Qin Zhao smiled and replied softly, “Alright.” Just then, the sound of gongs and drums echoed from the Gongyuan gates, and the officials called Qin Zhao’s name.

Qin Zhao said warmly, “Wait for my good news.”

Jing Li nodded, watching as Qin Zhao turned and walked away, stepping through the gates of the Gongyuan.

The street in front of the Gongyuan was packed with people. As names continued to be called, one examinee after another entered the hall. The atmosphere grew tense. The provincial examination, held only once every three years, was entirely different from the county or prefectural exams. Among the candidates were both eager young scholars and elderly men who had spent years preparing, all yearning to achieve success and change their destinies.

Jing Li wasn’t sure if the somber atmosphere had gotten to him, but his chest felt heavy.

With Qin Zhao’s talent, Jing Li didn’t worry about his ability to pass the provincial exam. However, passing meant Qin Zhao would become a Juren, qualifying him to participate in next March’s metropolitan examination.

Which meant… they would have to go to the capital.

Jing Li lowered his head, his expression darkening as if lost in thought.

He stood there for a long time, so long that by the time all the candidates had entered, he was the only one left outside the gates. Even the officials guarding the Gongyuan came over to ask if something was wrong, snapping Jing Li out of his thoughts. Embarrassed, he hurriedly left.

The provincial examination, like the prefectural exam, assigned each candidate an individual examination cell. However, these cells were cramped and narrow, furnished only with two wooden boards—one higher and one lower—serving as a desk and a chair. At night, the boards could be removed and pieced together into a rudimentary bed.

Inside the cell, there were also a few candles and a charcoal brazier, but nothing else.

Each round of the provincial examination spanned three days, and the volume of questions far exceeded that of the earlier exams. After sitting down in his cell, Qin Zhao began reviewing the exam questions:

• One question from The Analects.
• One from The Doctrine of the Mean.
• One from Mencius.
• A five-character, eight-rhyme poem.
• Four questions on classical interpretations.

He read each question carefully, taking nearly the time of one incense stick to finish. As Qin Zhao put down the paper, the faint sounds of others flipping through their papers and grinding inkstones reached his ears.

Though the exam allowed three days, the poor conditions of the cells could affect anyone’s state of mind. Most candidates aimed to complete as much as possible on the first day.

Qin Zhao was no exception.

Given his more fragile constitution, spending a night in such squalor was sure to take a toll, so he couldn’t afford any delays.

Without wasting time, Qin Zhao took out his brush and ink. He never needed drafts for his writing; his characters were neat, flowing, and flawless. He alternated between writing and resting, completing the questions from The Analects, The Doctrine of the Mean, and two of the classical interpretation topics on the first day.

When night fell, Qin Zhao stopped writing.

He had no intention of burning candles to work late; doing so would strain his mind and body for little gain.

Qin Zhao removed the wooden boards, piecing them into a small bed, and laid a padded coat on top. Curling up on the makeshift bed, he closed his eyes to rest.

The confined space of the cell barely allowed room for his long limbs, forcing him to huddle uncomfortably. Poorly ventilated, the cell was stifling at noon but chilling at night, with the added threat of snakes, insects, and rodents.

The conditions were abysmal.

In such an environment, countless scholars and aspiring officials were likely to falter and fail.

Was this really how the imperial court treated its future pillars of the nation?

As he drifted off to sleep, Qin Zhao couldn’t help but sigh. If given the chance, someone really ought to renovate these examination halls.

By some stroke of luck, Qin Zhao managed to endure the harsh night without falling ill. He completed all his exam questions on the second day. However, the rules of the provincial examination prohibited early submission, so he had to wait until the afternoon of the third day to leave with the other candidates.

When Qin Zhao finally stepped out of the examination hall, breathing in the fresh air outside made him momentarily dizzy.

The past three days had been grueling, and there were still two more rounds of exams to come.

With a sigh, he began walking toward home. After only a few steps, he noticed a carriage parked by the roadside and a familiar figure standing nearby.

The figure spotted him as well and came forward. “Sir.”

Qin Zhao handed over his belongings with a smile. “I didn’t ask him to wait for me, so he sent you instead?”

Ah Qi replied, “The young master was worried about your health and had me rent a carriage to wait here for you.”

Qin Zhao knew his young husband had his best interests at heart, but he still felt a hint of dissatisfaction that Jing Li had chosen to sulk over a casual remark and hadn’t come himself.

Once the provincial exams were over, Qin Zhao decided, he’d have to teach someone a lesson.

As he mused, the sound of approaching footsteps interrupted him.

“His Excellency the Inspector is here.”

A group of guards on horseback cleared the way, followed by an opulent carriage. The crowd parted to make way, many casting curious glances at the carriage.

The Inspector, sent from the capital, was a high-ranking civil and military official—far above the local prefect in status. For this provincial examination, aside from the primary and deputy examiners dispatched from the Hanlin Academy, the Inspector had been entrusted with oversight.

“I heard this Inspector was a top scorer in the imperial exams, personally chosen by the emperor,” someone murmured in the crowd.

“Nonsense,” another interjected. “The current emperor wasn’t even of age back then. It must’ve been the previous one.”

“Shh! Don’t let anyone hear you!” a third voice warned. “Everyone knows the Inspector deeply regrets ever studying under that person. Mentioning it in his presence could cost you your life.”

The murmurs naturally reached the ears of the Inspector and were also overheard by Qin Zhao and Ah Qi.

Ah Qi appeared unmoved, quietly standing by Qin Zhao’s side.

Qin Zhao, however, turned his head to watch as the entourage stopped at the gates of the Gongyuan. Not long after, a young man stepped out of the carriage.

The man wore official robes, his tall and slender figure suggesting youth, perhaps around thirty years old. Surrounded by attendants, he walked toward the Gongyuan gates. As though sensing a gaze, he briefly turned to look in the direction of Qin Zhao and Ah Qi.

But all he saw was a carriage slowly pulling away.

Inside the carriage, Ah Qi lowered the curtain and said softly, “He’s gone in.”

After a pause, he added, “He likely didn’t see us.”

Qin Zhao, leaning back with his eyes closed, responded with a quiet hum, revealing no emotion.

This small episode did not affect the ongoing provincial examination. The Inspector, tasked solely with oversight, had no direct interactions with the candidates.

For the next few days, the Inspector did not reappear.

The remaining two rounds of the provincial examination proceeded without incident. Perhaps relieved to have completed such a monumental task, Qin Zhao developed a mild fever on the evening of the final round, leaving Jing Li sleepless with worry.

“When will this body of yours ever show some improvement?” Jing Li complained the next morning as Qin Zhao’s fever subsided. Dark circles under his eyes betrayed his restless night.

It was baffling. Despite Qin Zhao diligently following the regimen prescribed by Master Xue and being detoxified for nearly two years, his health showed little progress.

“We must find time to visit the county and have Master Xue examine you again,” Jing Li resolved.

Qin Zhao could only remain silent and endure his husband’s scolding.

He had a fair understanding of his condition. The medical texts attributed it to “illness brought on by overthinking,” and Master Xue had warned him that excessive worry hindered recovery.

But given their current circumstances, how could he simply put everything aside?

Qin Zhao understood this well but refrained from sharing the truth for now. Instead, he did his best to comfort his husband and ease his worries.

With the examination concluded, Qin Zhao took a short break, using the opportunity to accompany his husband and son on leisurely outings, exploring the provincial city together.

In the past few months, Qin Zhao had been occupied with exam preparation while Jing Li busied himself with managing the household. It had been a long time since they enjoyed such carefree days.

This was why, when an official arrived from the Gongyuan to congratulate Qin Zhao on achieving the top scholar position, the family was preparing to head to the countryside to admire the autumn leaves.

The official and the newly crowned Jieyuan (top scorer) exchanged glances before offering his best guess. “My lord, are you perhaps in a hurry to return home and honor your ancestors?”

Qin Zhao: “…”

Jing Li: “…”

This misunderstanding wasn’t entirely their fault.

The timing of the provincial examination results was never fixed. If contentious papers required extensive review, delays of ten days or more were common. Preoccupied with their outings, Qin Zhao and Jing Li hadn’t kept track of the Gongyuan’s announcements or the release date of the results.

Qin Zhao, of course, would not admit to his oversight. Instead, he calmly expressed his gratitude to the visiting official, treating him to good tea and hospitality.

The official didn’t linger long, but as he departed, he reminded them with some concern, “My lord, please don’t rush back to your hometown just yet. By tradition, after the results are announced, the Inspector hosts the Banquet of the Deer Call. You, as the Jieyuan, are required to attend. The invitation will arrive within the next two days.”

Qin Zhao nodded in acknowledgment and saw the official off.

After the official left, Ah Qi asked, “Sir, about the Banquet of the Deer Call…”

Since the Inspector was hosting, that official would undoubtedly be present. But that man…

“If it’s fortune, it won’t evade us; if it’s trouble, we can’t escape it,” Qin Zhao said calmly. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Just as he spoke, he looked up to see his little husband holding their child, both dressed neatly, gazing at him with pitiful expressions. “Does this mean we’re not going to see the autumn leaves?”

Qin Zhao couldn’t help but chuckle softly.

No matter what happened, ensuring his husband and son’s happiness remained the most important thing.

Qin Zhao straightened up and said seriously, “We’re going, of course.”