Chapter 23: The Academy Examination

Page 1 of 3

The ninth day of the eighth lunar month in the twenty-fourth year of the Qian'an reign was an auspicious date. It coincided with the Double Ninth Festival, also known as the Climbing Festival. On this day, ancient emperors would perform rites to heaven and earth, while the common people organized ancestral worship and tomb-sweeping to demonstrate their filial piety and respect for their forebears. Traditions included climbing to high places for a distant view, while scholars and literati would enjoy chrysanthemums, taste fine tea, and prepare Double Ninth cakes.

This day was also known as the Yuancheng Festival, the birthday of the Qinghua Emperor (the Heavenly Worthy of Universal Salvation). People offered prayers on this day, seeking peace and health. In this agricultural society, the industrious and wise ancients would also carefully observe weather patterns to forecast future climates and harvests.

Today was also the day of the prefectural examination, the final hurdle to becoming a government student. The sun was remarkably kind, providing a warm, comfortable glow without the burden of heat, as if it feared scorching the future literary stars.

Li Yu stared at the still-closed gates of the examination hall. He squeezed his identification papers so hard his knuckles turned white; to say he wasn't nervous would be a lie. When he had first entered the Li household with his mother, his fate had been changed by his stepfather and mother. But today, once he stepped into the examination hall, whether his fate would change again depended entirely on himself.

Wu Jingcheng was carefree and showed no sign of panic. Ning Yuan, a scholar of vast learning, was so composed that he even began to meditate on the ground. His rival, Yu Guang, wore a deep frown, his occasional glances toward Li Yu filled with hostility. As the gates of the examination hall were about to open, Ning Yuan finally stood up in a leisurely manner.

Sure enough, shortly after Ning Yuan rose, the gates were thrown open. Clerks and examination officials were already prepared for their duties. After a series of rigorous inspections, Li Yu navigated the process with practiced ease and found his assigned seat. The prefectural examination consisted of only one main session, followed by a secondary review session to conclude.

The content was similar to the county and prefectural qualifying exams, requiring candidates to demonstrate their understanding of the classics through memorization, interpretation, and argumentation. In short, it tested whether one’s foundational knowledge was solid. The chief examiner was Chen Ju, the Commissioner of Education from Guiyang Prefecture, accompanied by Wang Zhiqiu, a censor favored by the throne, and the headmasters of academies from other provinces. From these dozens of examiners, fifty students would be chosen to become government-sponsored scholars.

There were six types of questions today, all to be completed within a single day. The time was tight and the task heavy; Li Yu felt he might even have to skip dinner.

The first was an eight-legged essay. Translated into plain language, the prompt was: "In the Analects, it is written, 'Is it not pleasant to learn with a constant perseverance and application?' Elucidate the profound meaning of this passage and discuss how to practice this principle in contemporary society." (500 words required.)

The second was poetry: compose a five-character regulated verse on the theme "Spring Garden Excursion," with a requirement for fresh imagery and elegant diction.

The third was a policy essay:

Page 2 of 3

"Analyze the pros and cons of our dynasty's imperial examination system and suggest improvements." (500 words or more required.)

Seeing this, Li Yu struggled to remain composed. If he were a high official, the first thing he would do is abolish the eight-legged essay and poetry—things he despised.

The fourth was an interpretation of the classics: "The opening of the Great Learning states, 'The way of the great learning lies in manifesting illustrious virtue, in loving the people, and in abiding by the highest good.' Combining personal cultivation and social responsibility, elaborate on its practical significance." (500 words or more.)

The fifth was a historical essay: "Evaluate Emperor Wu of Han's policy of 'dismissing the hundred schools of thought and honoring only Confucianism,' and its impact on the cultural and ideological development of later generations." (500 words or more.)

The sixth was a test of literary mastery: "'The beauty of mountains and rivers has been spoken of since ancient times.' Choose a scenic spot, describe its scenery, and express your feelings upon visiting it." (500 words or more.)

None of these could contain typos or corrections, or the entire result would be void. These essays were a breeze for Li Yu, especially the sixth, thanks to the "brutal training" from Master Xie.

"A record of the wonder of Mount Yandang. Mount Yandang is a famous peak in the southeast. Its peaks are lush and layered, the streams murmur, and clouds swirl around it like a fairyland. I have long heard of its name and longed for it..."

Four or five hundred words of praise flowed from Li Yu’s brush, as if he had been there himself. Wang Zhiqiu, the censor who hailed from the Jiangzhe region, saw the boy writing without hesitation and couldn't help but stand by his desk to observe. Finding the prose elegant and the vocabulary sophisticated, he picked up the policy essay. Upon reading the third question, he stroked his beard, his eyes showing appreciation.

The boy had started with a bit of flattery, praising the benefits of the imperial exams to show respect before detailing the flaws. Seeing him criticize the eight-legged essay and poetry, Wang turned to check his eight-legged essay. It was simple: he suspected the boy was bad at writing them, which was why he criticized them. If that were the case, he wouldn't let him pass.

Li Yu later learned that the prefectural exam did not use the "hidden name" system—only the provincial and metropolitan exams did. Whether the county and prefectural exams used it depended on the local officials. Wang Zhiqiu picked up the paper and found that the essay was actually quite excellent. While not as good as Ning Yuan's, it was among the best of this cohort. Wang had written the policy question himself; most other students, besides the flattery, were trying to make their writing as convoluted and difficult as possible.

Page 3 of 3

He hadn't expected to find a candidate who thought like him, let alone one who dared to speak the truth.

After Li Yu finished describing the wonders of Mount Yandang, Wang Zhiqiu couldn't help but ask, "Have you been to Mount Yandang?"

He had read Li Yu's background on the exam papers. Wang felt that even if the stepfather loved him dearly, surely he wouldn't have the funds to send a child thousands of miles away to travel.

"This student has not been there," Li Yu replied, bowing while seated since he could not stand. "The magistrate's son went and brought back a painting. Master Xie was inspired and asked us to write essays based on our imagination." He had written it over twenty times before Master Xie was satisfied. Who would have thought it would appear on the exam? He owed a debt of gratitude to his strict teacher.

Wang Zhiqiu was astonished that Li Yu could write as if he were there just by using his imagination. His admiration for the boy grew. In terms of substance and practicality, this student was first; in literary grace, he was at least second. Only the poem remained.

Facing the expectant gaze of the censor, Li Yu broke into a cold sweat; he always left the poetry for last. With less than half an hour left, Li Yu’s toes curled in anxiety. Under the censor's gaze, he couldn't scratch his head, so he calmed himself and traced the characters on the table to deliberate.

When he felt ready, he wrote on the only blank space left:

"Spring garden excursion, blossoms fill the path and branches. Willow threads gently brush the water, flower shadows dance softly on the pond. The breeze is warm, the oriole’s song is crisp, clouds unfurl as swallows glide. Where can one寄 one's idle spirit? Strolling about, I seek a new poem."

Li Yu felt quite proud after finishing; he felt his poetry had improved significantly—it was, to put it nicely, easy to understand. Compared to the Emperor's "One piece, two pieces, three or four pieces," it was much better, surely?

However, looking up, he saw Wang Zhiqiu sigh, appearing very dissatisfied with the poem. Li Yu's heart sank. He dared not speak, and after Wang left, his heart hammered against his ribs. Would he fail to reach the secondary review? It shouldn't be, as the essays were the most important.

In truth, it wasn't that he wrote poorly; it was just that Wang Zhiqiu hadn't expected a candidate who wrote such brilliant essays to produce such... unremarkable poetry.