Chapter 127: The Grand Elimination, Drawing the Line

"The Great Elimination Trial... First item... Marking a giant ruler. After three beats of the timing drum, begin!" The official shouting the final "begin" was so tense that his face turned crimson and veins bulged on his forehead. This set the candidates, who were already on edge and watching him closely, into a frenzy, their faces contorted with exertion.

The timing drum sounded: Dong!

Wang Ge gripped her sharp carving knife, her heart racing as she stared at the straight wooden board, over a zhang long, at her feet. Candidates surrounded her on all sides—front, back, left, and right. She was in the third row.

Dong!

There were twenty people in each row, totaling two hundred and thirty candidates in this area. In front of each person lay a piece of wood of similar specifications with a smooth surface.

Dong!

Everyone, either sitting or crouching, began to carve the "ruler intervals" onto their boards.

Each row was monitored by an official and a master craftsman, who patrolled from opposite ends toward the middle. As they patrolled, they called out, "You have one quarter of an hour. After marking the intervals, return to your original position, place your carving knife at your feet, and wait for your results. Do you understand?"

"Understood!" The candidates all set down their knives, looking toward the officials or the master craftsmen of their respective rows.

This was one of the examination rules: whenever a patrolling official asked a question, one must put down all tools and face them to answer.

The disadvantage for the candidates was that the rules contained in these inquiries were not mentioned in the wooden slips distributed in the preparation area. Since each row’s official or craftsman called out at different times, the candidates had to divide their attention to listen for the rules, which were of vital importance.

Furthermore, they had to clearly identify who was speaking and where they were standing—in front or behind. If everyone else turned to answer but one failed to react, elimination was highly likely.

Wang Ge had only carved one interval when, as she picked up her knife again, the craftsman behind her shouted, "The measuring tool used to check the standard of your marks was crafted by the Bureau of Works. One zhang equals ten chi; the margin of error for each interval must be less than two fen! Do you understand?"

"Understood!" She put down her knife once more, turned to look at the craftsman, and answered loudly.

Afterward, she cleared her mind, picked up the knife again, and narrowed her focus, ignoring everything but the wood beneath her face to rush the second interval.

At the intersection of the official and the craftsman, the official took his turn: "Anyone with more than three intervals outside the standard will be eliminated. Do you understand?"

"Understood!" Wang Ge barely finished carving the third segment before turning to face the official.

The craftsman in front immediately added, "Do you understand?"

"Damn them!"

"These pathetic bureaucrats!"

Everyone had just picked up their knives only to put them down again, hearts filled with rage but faces masked in submission. "Understood!"

The official followed up: "When you leave, you will beat the drum yourself. Do you understand?"

"Understood!"

By now, few candidates could keep their focus after picking up their knives; some even stopped working altogether, bracing themselves for the next inquiry.

The craftsman and the official reached the end of the row, returned silently, passed each other, coughed in unison, and walked back to the ends without uttering another word.

"Those two beasts!"

"Those two wretched officials!"

The candidates, burdened with anxiety, had wasted their time in vain.

Wang Ge, however, seized this time gap. Before the craftsman could shout again, she finished her markings. Her wooden board was slightly over a zhang, measuring one chi and three fen, so she had carved eleven intervals.

As she returned to her position and set down her knife, she glanced around. Including herself, at least twenty others had finished before her.

The competition was even more brutal than she had imagined.

Though she had managed to calm her mind before the exam, she had to stay even calmer now.

She was still far from being truly outstanding.

Wang Ge’s caution was well-founded. Those who finished before her were either from families of craftsmen or had been meticulously trained by noble houses since childhood; from the moment they began their path, the measuring tools they used were those crafted by the Bureau of Works.

Most other candidates used standard measuring tools passed down through their families or purchased from renowned old craftsmen. Their method of marking was not to simply carve "ruler intervals," but to use the blade to measure out each cun, counting until they reached a chi. Some even counted by fen, using their fingernails to hold the "cun" position, then counting the fen with their blades.

Reducing the error in the smallest unit of measurement was the only way to minimize the error in the ruler intervals. It was a clumsy method, but the only one available to those without noble backgrounds or standard instruments.

Wang Ge did not pride herself on finishing early. She thought that if Magistrate Huan had not looked out for her, she would surely be just like these candidates, sprawled on the ground, oblivious to how disheveled they looked.

Dong!

The timing drum sounded, and everyone froze. A candidate’s finger slipped, losing his rhythm, and he let out a cry, on the verge of tears.

The official announced, "Half a quarter of an hour has passed. Candidates, hurry up."

The candidates all dropped their knives. They waited for the "Do you understand?" phrase, but when it didn't come, they were fuming and rushed to pick up their knives again.

Every candidate present, whether finished or not, thought: *So this is how short half a quarter of an hour is. I’ve never felt time pass so quickly!*

Dong! Dong! Dong!

Three consecutive beats of the drum marked the end of the first item.

"I..." The candidate next to Wang Ge could not accept the blow; he was still one chi short of finishing. His board, like Wang Ge's, had enough length for eleven intervals.

"I..." He rose as if stunned, hesitated, and stopped. He dared not gamble on the inspector missing his mistake, nor did he dare to quickly finish the last interval, as that would be considered cheating and would result in the revocation of his craftsman status.

Yet, many others only had ten intervals!

Why was his board just enough for eleven? How much had he and his family sacrificed to get this spot in this year's exam?

"It's all... wasted." He put down his carving knife, his hand cut and bleeding.

The examiner walked to the front of the formation. With a wave of his hand, the craftsmen gathered at the first row, one measuring each board. The speed was terrifying; the constant shouts of "Pass" and "Eliminated" made hearts pound.

Four were eliminated from the first row.

Three were eliminated from the second row.

It was Wang Ge's row's turn.

The craftsman crouched before her wood, comparing it chi by chi. He showed no surprise that her eleven intervals were all precise to the fen; he simply said one word: "Pass."

Four people were eliminated from her row; it was no surprise that those who failed to mark the required intervals were sent away.

*Dong...* The sound of the drum was like a death knell. Listening to it was unsettling; who could say they wouldn't be the next to go?

Meanwhile, at the Wei Pavilion.

Because Huan Zhen had gone to participate in the rural militia competition, Ren Suzhi had sent Cheng Shuang to oversee things temporarily. Cheng Shuang was very diligent, knowing that Huan Zhen would eventually be accepted into the Protectorate Battalion, leaving the position of Wei Pavilion Chief vacant, and he was eligible to vie for it.

Wang Shu walked quickly, carrying a basket on her back, heading toward the wooden pavilion. She had gone to the township at the end of the third month to compete for the "Craftsman" quota and realized how difficult it was for her cousin. She had been confident, but unfortunately, she hadn't made the cut. Outside the exam grounds, Wang Shu had met a village neighbor, Zhang Cai, who had also gone to compete. Zhang Cai had followed her ever since, and for the past ten days or so, he had been coming to the Wei Pavilion, waiting on the path where she gathered reeds. He would just watch her without saying a word. She wasn't stupid; if he wouldn't speak, she wouldn't ask.

Unexpectedly, this time, Zhang Cai began to tail her, which scared her. And how did he get to the Wei Pavilion at this hour? Had he come yesterday and spent the night hiding in the reeds or the grass?

Wang Shu ran toward the wooden pavilion upon seeing Cheng Shuang there, immediately seeking help. "Uncle Cheng." Her cousin had taught her that calling a man "uncle" showed closeness.

Cheng Shuang blocked Zhang Cai, displeased. "You are not from the Wei Pavilion; why are you loitering here? Leave at once!"

Zhang Cai shrank back, took a few steps away, but remained unwilling to give up. "Don't be afraid, Shu. I just want to know where Ge is."

Wang Shu hid behind Cheng Shuang, gaining courage. "That is my own business. Why should I tell you?"

"She used to play with me all the time. Every time I saw her, I brought her good food. I couldn't bear to eat it myself, but I brought it all for her. I was so good to her; can't I even know where she is? I just want to know where she is." As he spoke, his voice cracked with tears.

Wang Shu was no longer the soft-hearted girl she once was. She didn't pity him but questioned, "Zhang Cai, stop tarnishing my cousin's reputation! Let me ask you, has my cousin ever eaten a single bite of the food you gave her?"

"No."

"So, you want my cousin to repay you for the 'good things' you thought you were giving, even though she never accepted them?"

Zhang Cai looked dazed. "So, she was guarding against me from the very beginning? She didn't like me? Is that it? Is that..."

Dong!

Cheng Shuang struck the drum, and the local peacekeeper, Lu Wu, arrived at the sound. Cheng Shuang gestured with his chin. "That young man is from Jia She Village; he’s a bit touched in the head. Take him back to the village. I don't want any accidents to be blamed on the Wei Pavilion."

Hearing this, Wang Shu felt a lingering fear. She despised Zhang Cai, but she still hoped he would come to his senses and be all right.

After Cheng Shuang sent the uneasy young girl to the gate of the Wang residence, he began to think seriously: the Wei Pavilion was short-handed; should he come over early and become a subordinate to Pavilion Chief Huan?