Outside the wrought-iron palisade of the Dragon-Leap Gate. The news that Senior Head Instructor Lei had forced Gu Changsheng’s three young children to take the notorious Three-Hour. Senior Graduate Licentiate Scroll in fifteen minutes spread through the crowd of noble parents like wildfire on dry grass.
Lord Qian-Shan—a portly third-rank clan uncle of the Royal House wearing a sable-trimmed coat—strutted over to the marble curb where Gu Changsheng sat beside his bubbling brass teapot. Behind Lord Qian-Shan trailed a dozen wealthy silk-merchants and court officials who had lost silver during the Hundred-Herb Pavilion crash the day before.
“Well, well, Boss Gu,” Lord Qian-Shan chuckled loudly, tapping a heavy rosewood chest carried by four of his household guards. Inside the open lid gleamed ten neatly stacked rows of thousand-tael imperial-minted silver ingots. “Your three little brats may have eaten some strange mountain wild-fruit that gave them brute strength to crack weather-beaten quartz.
The One-Hundred-Question Ancient Pill and Array Scroll was drafted by seven Grand Scholars of the Hanlin Academy! If a seven-year-old girl and a nine-year-old boy from Coffin Alley can score ninety points on that scroll in fifteen minutes, I’ll eat my sable hat!”
Gu Changsheng poured a cup of steaming jasmine tea for Grandpa Fu, then glanced lazily at the open chest of silver. “Is that so, Lord Qian-Shan? Sounds like you’re offering a wager.”
