Examiner Luo posted the advancement list at the end of the day. Candidates gathered beneath the long eaves as the light drained from the courtyard. A clerk pinned the paper at all four corners so it would not curl in the evening wind.
Yan found his name first. Wei’s appeared a few places above. Lin had advanced after her corrected kit score. Du stood just below the cutoff.
Du read the list twice, then stepped away so the others could see. His jaw was set. Yan waited for him to say something sharp, but Du only asked Luo for the written score breakdown.
“You can have it,” Luo said. “The movement station and the paired sword trial are listed separately.”
Du took the sheet and studied the numbers. “The movement score cost me more than the sword exchange.”
“You lost water on the second run.”
“I did. I wanted to show that I could carry a blade.”
“You did show that. The test measured the tray.”
Du nodded and traced the score with his finger. “Which section should I train for next time?”
Luo pointed to the narrow third turn. “Your pace changed late. Practice the turn until you can keep your shoulder and hand from fighting each other.”
Du folded the breakdown and slipped it into his sleeve. “Thank you.”
“The next opening will not use the same route.”
“It will still have a turn.”
Luo gave a short smile. “Probably.”
Du read the breakdown once more. “I thought the sword exchange might matter more than the tray.”
“It counted as another station,” Luo said. “It did not erase the first one.”
“I should have asked what each station was worth before I tried to impress the judges.”
“That might have helped,” Luo said. “It would not have carried the water for you.”
Du looked toward the candidates still waiting beneath the eaves. “I wanted to blame whoever made the list, for a moment.”
“And now?” Yan asked.
“Now I know what to train.” Du tapped the paper against his palm. “I’ll try again at the next opening.”
“I’ll expect you to do better,” Yan said.
“You can expect me to try.”
Yan found Wei beside the board. “You’re through.”
“So are you.”
“Lin too.”
“Her score was corrected.”
“She earned it.”
“I know.” Wei glanced at the rows of candidates. “I’m glad you brought it to Luo.”
“You thought I shouldn’t?”
“I thought you might help someone pass you. I was wrong.”
“You can still try to beat me.”
“I intend to.”
Luo stood on the low platform and announced the next stage. It would begin with a physician’s review, followed by a movement trial on the same grounds. The candidates would carry water trays again, but the route had been changed. Qinghe would record existing injuries before the trial so the judges could separate old conditions from anything that happened during the test.
Wei raised his hand. “Do the medical notes affect the score?”
“No,” Luo said. “They exist to make the trial clear. A candidate may withdraw if an injury worsens.”
Yan looked at his wrist. The burn had closed, though the skin still pulled when he turned it too far. “If a candidate withdraws, is that considered a failure?”
“It counts as a withdrawal from this stage. You may apply at the next opening.”
“Good.”
Luo scanned the crowd. “The infirmary will set appointment times. Do not arrive together and block the corridor.”
Qinghe stood beside the clerk with her notebook open. She checked the candidate list and gave each person a time for the following morning. Yan was before lunch; Lin was scheduled after her work shift. Wei received the slot after Yan. He leaned over the page to check the spelling of his name.
“That’s tomorrow?” he asked.
“The first review begins at the third bell,” Qinghe said. “Your time is written beside your name.”
“Will you score us?”
“No. I’ll record the condition of your hands, joints, and pulse. The examiners will have the same notes before the movement trial.”
“And if someone refuses?”
“Then they can withdraw or speak to Luo.”
Wei looked toward the board. “I wasn’t planning to refuse.”
“Then there’s no problem.” Qinghe closed the notebook. “Do not practice the tray route tonight. If you twist an ankle in the dark, I will have to write it down.”
“That sounds like a threat,” Yan said.
“It is a reminder.”
Bai was packing his supply table. He folded the empty cloths and stacked the water bottles in a crate. “I’ll be back tomorrow at the same prices. A clean cloth costs the same whether you win or lose.”
“I’ll need one for the wrist,” Yan said.
“I’ll set one aside.”
“How much?”
“The usual price.”
“Then put it with the water.”
“If you spill water on it, I’ll charge for both.”
Wei filled a bottle. “You should challenge me to the tray route before the next stage. No sword, no excuse.”
“I’ll beat you by keeping the tray level,” Yan said. “I won’t need to run.”
“You spilled today.”
“And I finished without a spill on the second run.”
“The first score still stands.”
“Then we’ll see what the new route does.”
Qinghe wrote their names on adjacent lines in her notebook. “If you compete before the test, do it in the morning and use the practice trays. The infirmary review comes first.”
“We can meet at the annex early,” Wei said. “Before the corridor fills.”
“You have different appointments,” Yan said.
“I can wait.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to see whether you keep the tray level.”
“Then you’ll have to wait.”
Bai hauled the crate onto his cart. “You can argue while you carry this to the gate. It will be good practice for the next test.”
“That isn’t on the station list,” Wei said.
“Neither was carrying my supplies.”
Yan took the opposite handle. Wei lifted the other end. The cart rolled over the courtyard stones, its wheels catching at the edge of a shallow crack. They adjusted the weight together and continued toward the gate.
“Your wrist?” Qinghe called.
“It’s fine.”
“I’ll check it tomorrow.”
“Then I’ll tell you if it isn’t.”
“Do that.”
At the gate, Bai took the crate back and thanked them. The evening bell rang from the inner yard. Candidates began to leave in small groups. Du walked with his score breakdown in his hand, already reading it again. Lin was speaking with Nurse Mei near the infirmary door. Wei stood beside Yan under the eaves.
“First round is over,” Wei said.
“We’re still in the same place.”
“Tomorrow we start with measurements.”
“Then we carry the tray.”
“And then we see who keeps it level.”
Yan looked at the patched cuff of his coat and flexed his wrist. He had a place in the next stage, and the morning would begin with Qinghe’s examination before either of them touched a bowl. That seemed fair. He turned toward home with the day’s score still warm in his pocket.