Du Shenyan held the remaining seven copper coins and squeezed into the crowd where the results were presented.
Under the candlelight, Lu Xuan's name at the top of the list was as dazzling as a golden sculpture.
When he held his breath to find his name, a sneer suddenly came from behind him: "Can the candlelight of a poor family illuminate the inscription on the list?"
The candlelight suddenly went out, and the surroundings fell into darkness.
At dawn, the yamen officials tore off the list, and Du Shenyan saw half of the word "Shen" obscured by stains in the corner.
The cotton robe that his mother had sewn for him overnight was torn open during the looting, revealing the dilapidated ancient books passed down from his ancestors in the inner lining.
The curtain of the sedan chair was opened in the distance, and Lu Xuan caught a glimpse of the old paper color, and a cold light flashed in his eyes.
