The scores went up before midday. Candidates gathered around the board in the hall corridor, leaving a gap for the clerks to pass. Yan waited until the first rush thinned. He could see the ink through shoulders and sleeves, but reading it from three people back would only make him guess.
Bai had a basket of buns at the side door. “The top candidate gets one free,” he called. “The second gets half.”
“Who decides the top?” someone asked.
“I do, based on my sales.”
“Then I’ll buy two,” Wei said, stepping around Yan.
“A sound investment,” Bai said.
Yan waited for Wei to scan the names. “You first.”
“I know my number.”
“Then you don’t need to stand on tiptoe.”
Wei looked back at him. “You’re making a habit of letting other people go ahead.”
“I’m making a habit of seeing the board.”
When the crowd opened, Yan found his name halfway down the list. The diagnosis score was in the upper half. The movement score sat lower, marked with a small notation for the spill on his first route and a higher score for the clean second attempt. Wei’s name stood near the top in both columns.
“You did well,” Wei said.
“So did you.”
“I didn’t need a second try.”
“You didn’t spill.”
“You make that sound like I was lucky.”
“It means you did the route the first time.”
Yan found Lin’s name. Her diagnosis and movement scores were both respectable, but her kit column showed incomplete. He read it again. The note beside it said: seal issue, candidate unable to complete.
“That’s wrong,” he said.
Wei leaned nearer. “Didn’t she finish after the table was reset?”
“She and her partner did.”
“The note says the seal issue.”
“The reset card had the time. The clerk attached their notes.”
“Then tell Luo.”
“I will.”
Behind them, two candidates had noticed the crowd shift. One wore a blue clan sash, and the other carried a token carved with a horse. “They’re moving people up because of the furnace rescue,” the blue-sashed one said. “A worker saves one apprentice and gets to skip the trial?”
Yan turned around. “My score is on the board.”
“The board can be changed.”
“Then bring the examiner a reason.”
“You have a reason. Everyone saw what you did in the furnace.”
“That was a separate event.”
Wei stepped beside Yan. “The marks come from the same test for everyone. If you think they don’t, ask for the breakdown.”
The horse-token boy looked at Wei’s name near the top. “Easy for you to say.”
“I took the same route,” Wei said. “I’d say it even if I had spilled.”
Yan left them to their argument and crossed the hall to Examiner Luo. The examiner stood at a desk, comparing slips from the station. Yan waited until he had finished speaking with another candidate.
“Lin’s kit score is marked incomplete,” Yan said. “The dropper station was reset after the plank was removed. She and her partner completed it.”
“The clerk entered the first note.” Luo took the score sheet and looked for the reset card. “Did you see their result?”
“I saw them submit their card and notes. The clerk attached both.”
Luo checked a stack of papers and found the reset record. He read it, then called over the clerk who had collected the card.
“Did this pair finish?”
The clerk examined the names. “Yes. They finished inside the reset interval. I thought I’d sent the completed result forward.”
“You sent the stop notice,” Luo said. “The result is in this folder.”
He found Lin’s card, checked the measure and ingredient order, then added the kit score to the board. The correction moved her up several places. Nothing about the furnace rescue was mentioned. Luo added a time and his seal beside the change.
“Thank you,” Yan said.
“You brought me a discrepancy, not a favor. That is what the review is for.”
Lin stood in the hall doorway, holding her notes. She saw the correction and hurried to the board. “I thought my partner had done something wrong.”
“You both passed the station,” Luo said. “The entry was incomplete.”
“Thank you,” she said to Yan.
“You did the work.”
“It still helped that you read the board.”
She checked the correction stamp, then looked toward the annex where her partner had gone to return the case. “I thought the first score meant we had failed. He was already asking whether he could apply again next year.”
“You still have to pass the other stations,” Yan said. “But this entry was wrong.”
“I know. I just don’t want the wrong entry to become the reason.”
“It won’t, if you keep your copy.”
Lin pulled the folded reset slip from her pocket. The ink had smudged at one corner, but the examiner’s time and seal remained clear. “I kept it because I thought the clerk might misplace it.”
“You were right to keep it.”
“I was right to bring it to the table,” she said. “I didn’t know what else to do with it.”
“Now you do.”
She tucked the slip away. “I’ll ask for the next station list. I want to train while I still have time.”
“Ask Luo,” Yan said. “He may not post it yet.”
“I’ll ask anyway.”
She moved back toward the desk. Wei followed Yan toward Bai’s supply table.
“You made it easier for her to pass you,” Wei said.
“The score was wrong.”
“You could have waited until the next stage.”
“Then she might have been sent home over a clerk’s mistake.”
“It might make our contest harder.”
“I’d rather beat someone who earned the place.”
Wei accepted a bun from Bai. “I’ll remember that when we meet at the next trial.”
“Good. I’d hate for you to forget who beat you.”
“You haven’t yet.”
“Then you’d better keep remembering.”
Bai set out a second basket. “You both talk as if the next score belongs to you already.”
“I’m not at the top,” Yan said.
“That is why I’m offering Wei the sponsored bun.”
Wei bit into it. “And what does second place receive?”
“A market-price bun.”
“Then I’ll take that too.”
The crowd around the board thinned, though a few parents stayed to argue about the order of names. Luo posted a second notice explaining that the rankings covered only the first stations and did not guarantee a place in the ruin trial. Lin returned from the desk with the next list folded in her pocket.
“I’m still in,” she said.
“You were in before the correction,” Yan said.
“The clerk’s note didn’t look that way.” She opened the paper. “There’s a paired diagnosis tomorrow. They’ll match us by score range.”
Wei wiped sugar from his thumb. “That could be interesting.”
“I hope so,” Yan said. “A good question is better than a good banner.”
Across the yard, Luo rang the small handbell that called the next set of candidates. Yan watched the line start to form and felt a familiar bright pull of interest. He had earned his place in the next station. Now he wanted to see what they would ask.