There was a river south of the capital and on the north side of the river, there was a straight path. Looking southwards from the the riverbank, a large, verdant and lush park could be seen. Deep within the garden, a green mountain was hidden. This green mountain was the legendary Mausoleum of Books——the stagecoaches stopped on the road, and the examinees peered through the curtains. They looked at that green mountain and revealed an expression of yearning.
During the first few days when Chen Changsheng had arrived at the capital, he had always stayed at the Plum Garden Inn, just outside of the Mausoleum of Books. Many times, he had observed the Mausoleum of Books from far away, so he was not as excited as the examinees, especially those peers from the south. The inn only had one room remaining.
