Chapter Seventy-Five: The Aristocracy of the Imperial Examinations

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Daonan Hall, in the headmaster’s study.

Zhu Liu, whose time was as precious as gold, was unexpectedly engaged in an earnest conversation with a student who had only been enrolled for three months.

He lowered his voice and said, “This is actually the same route the great clans of the Jin dynasties once took.”

“Maintaining the supremacy of the family by monopolizing knowledge?” Su Lu replied softly.

“Exactly!” Zhu Liu’s eyes flashed with a sharp light, and he couldn't help but stand up. The boy’s innate intelligence was truly extraordinary—he could so effortlessly grasp even such subtle and concealed topics.

This incisiveness was something he never experienced even when speaking with Qian Huairen or the local degree-holders and scholars of Luzhou.

He moved to sit beside Su Lu, curiosity getting the better of him. “Have you read the ‘Comprehensive Mirror,’ the ‘Book of Jin,’ or the ‘History of the South’?”

“I'm ashamed to say, I've never read a single history book,” Su Lu admitted sheepishly. “I've only memorized the ‘Essentials of Historical Studies’.”

Actually, he’d also paged through a set called ‘Five Thousand Years of Chinese History’...

“You still ought to read the histories...” Zhu Liu chuckled, never having imagined ignorance and insight could coexist so naturally in one person.

He grew serious, instructing Su Lu: “Don't think you can gain entry to the halls of learning by relying solely on formulaic essays. Even to pass the preliminary exam, you must have a broad knowledge of the past and present—astronomy, geography, military, government, current affairs, all of it...”

“Yes, I'll remember, sir,” Su Lu replied quietly. “But for now, my priority is to improve my prose, so I can stay at the academy.”

“That’s true—take it one step at a time.” Zhu Liu nodded, then returned to their earlier discussion:

“If you read the histories, you’ll see that while the aristocratic clans have vanished, many still yearn to transform their families into just such lineages...”

“Such families still exist today?” Su Lu inquired softly.

“Of course.” Zhu Liu nodded, his expression complicated. “To name only a few in our own region—there’s the Yangs of Xindu, the Jians and Lius of Baxian, the Jins of Mianzhou, the Hus of Jingyan... All prominent scholarly families.”

“Among them, the Jians of Baxian are descendants of Grand Preceptor Jian of the Six Dynasties, their prestige stretching back a century, rivaling the ancient aristocracy. Then you have the Yangs of Xindu, a rising star with three members who passed the highest examination...” Zhu Liu explained.

“The Yangs of Xindu? Yang Shen?” Su Lu finally heard a name he recognized.

“Oh? You’ve heard of Young Prodigy Yang?” Zhu Liu was surprised:

“That boy has been studying in the capital under Scholar Yang. I thought he was only famous in Beijing and Chengdu—didn’t expect word of him to reach even our remote corner.”

“My eldest brother mentioned him once; all I know is his name,” Su Lu responded quietly, thinking to himself, I also know his poem ‘Immortals by the River,’ heh heh...

“That young man is about your age, perhaps a few years older.” Zhu Liu continued with interest:

“But his background is worlds apart from yours. His grandfather, Yang Chun, was a successful candidate in the imperial exams in the seventeenth year of Chenghua’s reign, rising to be a provincial inspector in Huguang. His father, Yang Tinghe, passed the exam three years earlier, in the fourteenth year of Chenghua.”

“Scholar Yang is that accomplished?” Su Lu exclaimed.

“Indeed. Scholar Yang became a licentiate at twelve, attained the jinshi degree at nineteen, was appointed to the Hanlin Academy, later served as lecturer to the crown prince, helped compile the ‘Collected Statutes of the Great Ming,’ and was promoted to a position that hadn’t been filled in fifty years—the Senior Grand Secretary of the Left Chancellor’s Hall. His entry into the cabinet as chief minister was practically guaranteed.” Even Zhu Liu’s face was full of envy.

“That’s the perfect life any scholar would dream of.”

“I wouldn’t dare dream so grandly even in my sleep,” Su Lu replied with a wry smile.

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In his previous life, he’d thought of those historical figures as nothing more than names. But now that he was living among them, he realized how distant and unattainable those names truly were.

“Haha, that’s only natural...” Zhu Liu laughed. “The glory of the Yang family is something ordinary people wouldn’t even dare to imagine. In the twelfth year of Hongzhi, Scholar Yang’s brother, Yang Tingyi, also passed the highest exam, and two other brothers became licentiates.”

“They’re truly a family blessed by the star of literature,” Su Lu sighed.

“Yes, the Yangs have flourished generation after generation. Now Scholar Yang’s son, Yang Shen, is growing up—his talent is no less than his father’s, and his opportunities are even greater. Since childhood, he’s been taught by Hanlin scholars, and a few years ago, he was even taken as a disciple by Grand Secretary Li of Chaling.”

“Li Dongyang, the deputy chief of the cabinet?” Su Lu asked softly. He’d heard his uncle mention that this man was the idol of all military households under heaven.

“Yes.” Zhu Liu nodded. “Grand Secretary Li is not only a man of high rank and power, but also the founder of the Chaling School of Poetry. His talent and learning are second to none. He greatly admires Young Prodigy Yang, calling him ‘my young friend.’”

“Fame is inevitable for someone like that.” Su Lu rubbed his nose, unable to deny his envy. He toiled away in the mountains, his lifelong goal just to pass the preliminary exams and bask in the rare praise of a scholar.

Yet others were born amid the clouds, surrounded by high officials and literary leaders, studying under the deputy chief of the cabinet...

The difference in people’s circumstances was truly staggering.

“Envious, boy?” Zhu Liu deliberately sought to stir up the fire in his heart, patting Su Lu’s shoulder and saying with high hopes:

“You may never become Yang Shen, but you can become the next Yang Tinghe.”

“You overestimate me, sir.” Su Lu couldn’t help but smile wryly. Does that mean I’d become Yang Shen’s father? “Scholar Yang became a licentiate at twelve; I’m already fourteen and might not even get the chance to take the preliminary exam.”

“You will have a chance!” Zhu Liu said with conviction. “I’m telling you this so you won’t set your sights only on the monthly lessons and make passing the preliminary exam your life’s goal.”

“You see right through me, sir...” Su Lu admitted sheepishly. “Those are indeed my short-term and long-term plans.”

“Haha, that’s only human nature,” the headmaster laughed. “You do have to eat one bite at a time, and a thousand-mile journey begins beneath your feet. But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look to the horizon and set yourself a lofty goal!”

“Even if your circumstances are hard, you must never lose your soaring ambition. Otherwise, you’ll be trapped by petty gains and losses, treating things that matter little in the course of a lifetime as if they’re the most important in the world. You’ll end up making foolish mistakes...”

“Because in your eyes, only the immediate matters are important. For the sake of a single bowl of tainted water, you’ll sacrifice things a hundred times more valuable.”

Finally, he looked at Su Lu and said solemnly, “You must believe that though the North Sea is far away, you can reach it if you ride the great wind!”

“Yes, I will remember your teaching! Though poor, I will persevere, and never let go of my aspirations!” Su Lu stood up and bowed deeply. He’d thought the headmaster, like himself, was just a cold-hearted exam-taker—but that was a great misunderstanding.

The headmaster was, in fact... an exam-taker with a heart.

“Good, very good! Such spirit!” Zhu Liu said approvingly, studying this bright and handsome youth before him.

To find a worthy student to nurture is the greatest joy of a teacher’s life.

“When I say you can become the next Yang Tinghe, it’s not without reason.” Headmaster Zhu encouraged Su Lu with a smile: “In fact, Scholar Yang’s grandfather was a son-in-law who married up, and the Yang family started from humble beginnings. Before Scholar Yang, Xindu had never produced a jinshi. So their starting point wasn’t much better than your own family’s. Since heaven has gifted you with talent, why not aspire to raise your family to the same heights?”

“I will remember,” Su Lu replied. He wasn’t easily swayed, yet the headmaster’s words still made his heart surge with excitement.

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It took a while before he calmed his restless heart. “Did Scholar Yang find some secret... I mean, a secret to passing the exams?”

“Of course,” Zhu Liu replied lightly. “Otherwise, why do you think all his brothers and sons could pass from his generation onward? Jinshi aren’t born—they’re made through teaching.”

With a self-deprecating smile, he added, “I’ve also picked up a few insights myself—like those tricks I taught you last time...”

“I’ve benefited greatly. Thank you for your generous instruction, sir,” Su Lu quickly said, saluting, hoping the master would share a few more tips.

“That’s all! You think everyone’s like you? That anyone can stumble across the knack so easily?” Zhu Liu retorted. “I’ve spent over a decade racking my brains and only figured out those few strategies. I’ve taught you all I could.”

The implication being, there are some things not to be passed on...

Su Lu understood perfectly well and smiled. “Indeed, all you need is a single unique skill to get ahead in the world.”

“Haha, but in truth, the more the better. I’m finished, so it’s up to you to keep pondering.” Zhu Liu finally announced, “This time, the prize is—personal instruction from myself!”

“Thank you, master! I am deeply honored!” Su Lu stood up, delighted, and bowed. To receive special guidance from the headmaster was the best outcome he could hope for!

Though it would only make his already heavy workload even heavier, Su Lu was more than willing.

For children from the mountains, as long as the studying doesn’t kill you, you must push yourself to the limit—there’s no other way!

“Today, I’ll give you your first lesson,” the headmaster said dutifully.

Su Lu straightened up, ready to listen intently.

“Young Prodigy Yang’s elders had him imitate famous ancient essays from a young age to strengthen his writing,” Zhu Liu said. “They say that at twelve, he wrote an imitation of ‘Lament for the Ancient Battlefield,’ with lines like ‘In the green towers, the souls of courtesans are severed; in the bright daylight, the bones on the emerald moss are exposed,’ which won the applause of Hanlin scholars.”

“After his grandfather Yang Chun read it, he asked him to imitate ‘On Passing Qin.’ Yang Shen wrote a draft the next day, and Yang Chun was astonished and delighted, declaring him to have the talent of Jia Yi.” Clearly, Zhu Liu had studied the Yang family in detail.

“Grand Secretary Li Dongyang later heard of this and had him imitate the ‘Memorial on Dispatching Troops’ and the ‘Memorial Requesting the Removal of Monks and Nuns.’ After reading them, he praised his style as ‘no less than the poets of the Tang and Song,’ and that’s when he decided to take him as a disciple.” Zhu Liu finished, then said to Su Lu:

“Imitation is the fastest way to improve your prose. You should imitate more Qin and Han essays to refine your writing.”

“Yes,” Su Lu said, committing the advice to memory.

“We’ll start with something simple. Go home and first imitate ‘Ode to the Lotus.’” Then, unable to resist a mischievous impulse, the headmaster added, “But writing ‘Ode to the Bamboo’ or ‘Ode to the Plum’ is too easy. You need to write about something less common.” He scratched his cheek. “The Dragon Boat Festival is coming—write an ‘Ode to the Mugwort.’”

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