Chapter 6: Reached the Heavens?

The Embroidered Uniform Guard is a vast and complex organization, reaching tens of thousands at its peak, yet it harbors a cavernous divide between the high and the low.

The truly powerful guardsmen—the figures of legend feared by all—make up only a tiny fraction of those registered under the Guard's banner. Most of the hereditary soldiers are like the Bai family: impoverished souls scraping by on meager wages, fundamentally no different from the low-ranking foot soldiers in any other garrison.

With a hint of curiosity, Bai Yu followed Clerk Shi through the main gates of the Embroidered Uniform Guard headquarters.

In the forecourt stood a group of banner officers, along with a young man dressed in the fifth-rank official robes of a Thousand-Man Commander, who was lecturing the men with a fierce demeanor:

"Get to the West City and search thoroughly for the whereabouts of the 'Along the River During the Qingming Festival'! Don't say I, Yan Hu, didn't look out for you—ten taels of silver for a lead, one hundred for the painting itself!"

Bai Yu, a stranger to this place, dared not stare, but he heard every word clearly.

As expected of the headquarters, the matters they handled were high-profile and grand, a far cry from the atmosphere of the slums and the elephant stables. Bai Yu could not help but reflect once more that the difference between families under the Guard's registry was greater than the difference between men and dogs.

If his own father had been a Thousand-Man Commander in the Northern Secretariat, a warden, or a secret agent, Bai Yu might not be fretting over "changing his fate through examinations," but rather living the life of a privileged scion.

Beyond the forecourt lay the first courtyard, housing the Secretariat, with the main hall serving as the Office of Judicial Affairs. A person was already seated inside, calling out to Shi Chaobin, "Clerk Shi! I heard your latest Qingci prayer was ranked lowest again! Your literary talent really is lacking!"

Clerk Shi’s face flushed slightly as he argued, "A Qingci is not literature. How can a prayer for divine intercession be measured by literary standards?"

Bai Yu did not dare enter without permission, standing outside the threshold like a ghost. He couldn't help but steal a glance; the person who dared to mock the "Chief Secretary" of the Guard must be no ordinary character.

The individual was dressed in a pure white Yesa robe, with almond-shaped eyes, fair skin, and red lips—strikingly beautiful. Bai Yu found it difficult to tell if this was a man or a woman; judging by the voice, it was likely a woman in male attire. Or perhaps not—after all, this era had eunuchs. Regardless, Bai Yu felt this person was even more inscrutable than his own "abstract, atomic personality."

While novels often featured flowery descriptions like "white as snow," Bai Yu had never seen anyone wear pure white in reality since his arrival, except at funerals. That this suspected woman was parading through the Guard’s headquarters in such attire only highlighted how eccentric she was.

After mocking Clerk Shi, the figure in the white Yesa pulled out a scroll. "You’ve got work to do! This is the topic the Commander sent over from the Western Park this morning!"

As a history novice who had never even read *Things About the Ming Dynasty*, Bai Yu did not grasp the implications. Clerk Shi took the scroll and read it with utter speechlessness—that "Emperor of Longevity" was once again forcing his ministers to write garbage.

Anyone familiar with the court knew that the Jiajing Emperor, who styled himself the Emperor of Longevity, was deeply artistic and obsessed with having his ministers compose various texts, especially Qingci prayers. Those who excelled at it rose quickly—this was the political reality of the middle-to-late Jiajing era.

Although Commander Lu Bing didn't need to rely on literature to survive, as a minister serving in the Western Park, he had his own writing quotas. Since Lu Bing’s own literary skills were mediocre, he often used Clerk Shi as his ghostwriter.

The figure in white teased, "You were the second-place scholar in Fujian, a province famous for its imperial examination success, and placed seventh in the national and palace exams. Why are your drafts always ranked at the bottom?"

Shi Chaobin felt a wave of depression. Writing such obsequious, sycophantic nonsense—and dealing with the occult nature of Qingci—was truly pathetic. What was worse was that he couldn't even write this trash as well as the top masters. Setting aside veterans like Yan Song and his son or Xu Jie, even the four contemporary masters—Yuan Wei, Guo Pu, Yan Ne, and Li Chunfang—were all absolute monsters. Despite being a local genius since childhood, Shi Chaobin couldn't compete with them.

The figure in white rose to leave, but caught sight of Bai Yu outside the threshold. With a puzzled look, they asked Clerk Shi, "Is this your new servant? He doesn't look very refined. How did he catch your eye?"

Bai Yu thought to himself, *What a greasy, lecherous thing—man, woman, or eunuch.*

Clerk Shi replied, "Don't talk nonsense! This is a youth from our Elephant Training Office, and he is keen on his studies. He has come to the Secretariat today to obtain a certificate to sit for the imperial examinations."

The figure in white curled their lip. "Perhaps he's just using the exams to build a reputation? Regardless of the outcome, he can claim he’s a studious youth. It’s nothing more than a careerist tactic; I’ve seen many such people."

How hard were the imperial examinations? A *xiucai* was one in a hundred, a *juren* one in ten thousand, and a *jinshi* one in one hundred thousand. In a place like the Guard, true talent was as rare as a phoenix feather.

Bai Yu, here only to get his paperwork, didn't dare cross the noble-looking figure. He said to Clerk Shi, "I beg the Clerk to set a test for me, to give me a chance to prove my worth."

Clerk Shi pondered for a moment, glanced at the scroll in his hand, and said, "Very well. If your skills are lacking, don't bother going to the exam hall and embarrassing yourself. A noble gentleman deeply cherished a lion cat. Now that the cat has died, write a piece of parallel prose to mourn it. You know what parallel prose is, I assume?"

Bai Yu was momentarily stunned. Was this a serious test? A funeral oration for a cat? Was this not absurd?

"Should I not be tested on the Confucian classics or the eight-legged essay?" Bai Yu asked hesitantly.

As a seasoned bureaucrat of over a decade, Shi Chaobin remained unfazed. "Do you not know that the eight-legged essay is a variant of parallel prose? If you can handle a topic as obscure as this, the eight-legged essay will be a breeze."

Bai Yu had no choice but to silently activate the virtual interface of his AI assistant. He quickly typed: *List the allusions related to the lion cat of the 39th year of Jiajing and compose the best funeral oration in parallel prose.*

The AI replied: *In the 39th year of Jiajing, a lion cat died in the Yongshou Palace of the Western Park. The Emperor mourned it, had it buried in a golden coffin at the foot of Longevity Hill, and ordered his ministers to write texts for its ascension. Most failed due to the difficulty of the topic, but the Imperial Academician Yuan Wei’s text, containing the phrase 'transforming a lion into a dragon,' pleased the Emperor most...*

*Holy crap!* Bai Yu was startled. Was he connected to the heavens?