Chapter 36: The Imperial Examination

Jinhua was never a particularly renowned county. In fact, one might say it was the most inconspicuous among all the counties on the map of the Song Dynasty. The only thing Jinhua was known for was Jinhua ham, and that was a distinction belonging to the era of the Qing Dynasty.

Because of its obscurity, the county had only two instructors: one was Instructor Wang, the other Instructor Cui.

The students had finished their exams and were free from worry, but the two instructors remained behind, still grading papers. They labored through the repetitive task of checking the accuracy of dictation, and both were growing weary. At that moment, Instructor Cui suddenly came upon a particular paper; after reading it, his spirits lifted considerably. He praised it repeatedly, then lamented its shortcomings, drawing the attention of Instructor Wang beside him.

“Why are you so excited, Brother Cui?” Instructor Wang, also fatigued from the repetitive work, put down his vermillion brush and took the opportunity to rest.

Instructor Cui shook the paper in his hand and said, “This candidate’s transcription and essay are entirely correct. Most impressive is his handwriting—so fine that I cannot tell if it is in Yan style or Hui style.”

“Oh? That is quite unusual.”

The preliminary examination for scholars consisted of three parts: first, dictation, to test familiarity with the Analects; second, an essay on the classics, requiring not just recitation but understanding; third, the quality of the writing itself, which translated to presentation points.

The first two were straightforward, but a student’s beautiful handwriting could earn substantial extra marks. Since ancient times, it was said that one’s character is reflected in one’s script, and this piqued Instructor Wang’s curiosity.

Instructor Wang rose and went to examine the paper.

He noted first its immaculate presentation, with no erasures or corrections. This meant the student had memorized thoroughly—excellent.

That alone was already grounds for admission.

Yet such was not enough to surprise the two instructors; being able to read and memorize was hardly remarkable. What astonished them was Shen Shi’s calligraphy.

At first glance, Shen Shi’s handwriting seemed unremarkable, but within its ordinariness lay a sense of freedom, an unrestrained elegance.

To put it more elegantly, it possessed a certain spirit. To speak plainly, it was like a face that grew more appealing the longer one looked.

“A pity—his script has only just matured; it has not reached its full potential. I wish I could see its brilliance once perfected.”

Instructor Wang sighed as well, reviewing the paper from the beginning; indeed, all answers were correct. The candidate excelled in all three sections of the scholar’s examination. Such papers were the favorites of the grading instructors.

“You feel the same, Brother Wang?” Instructor Cui finished, sighed, and said, “Such a shame, for if he passes this round, we may not see him again.”

“You mean…?” Instructor Wang smiled at his colleague, knowing full well how deep his passion for calligraphy ran. Today, he had witnessed it firsthand.

Instructor Cui pondered, then said, “Let us award him the top grade.”

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Instructor Wang considered this and asked, “Only top grade? With this presentation and handwriting, awarding him first place would not be excessive!”

“I know, I know—his responses and writing are superb, but his script has not yet reached its pinnacle. I am truly torn.”

Such devotion to calligraphy!

Instructor Wang understood. In ancient times, exams were judged not only on correct answers but also on neatness and the quality of handwriting—both essential criteria.

Hence, there was a whole class of calligraphy enthusiasts.

Of course, loving calligraphy was no fault, but letting love become bias was less ideal.

“Brother Cui, most scholar candidates are young; handwriting is a lifelong pursuit—not achieved overnight.” Instructor Wang gently reminded him.

“True… You are right. I have lost sight of the larger picture. But the grading is not yet finished; perhaps we should wait and see if another paper surpasses his.”

Instructor Cui knew Wang was right; his passion for script should not lower a student’s rank. Still, he wished to wait, hoping perhaps a more outstanding candidate would appear.

Wang understood his colleague’s thinking. However, this was Jinhua, not Suzhou or Hangzhou—where would such prodigies come from? Wang doubted any paper would outshine this one.

The grading was quickly completed, and reality proved Wang’s judgment correct.

Wang picked up Shen Shi’s paper again and remarked, “This student has solid learning and remarkable writing. Though I do not know which academy he belongs to, it is clear he is a promising scholar.”

Instructor Cui nodded in agreement: “Indeed.”

Having reviewed all the papers, he could only acknowledge this.

Wang continued, “Since he possesses such learning, and you appreciate his handwriting, why not look at his name? We can summon him, instruct him further, encourage him to practice calligraphy diligently. Who knows, he may become a master—would that not be splendid?”

In ancient exams, names were pasted over to prevent cheating. Yet with Shen Shi’s paper such as it was, even if they peeked, none would accuse them.

With Wang’s suggestion, Instructor Cui naturally agreed. Jinhua was adjacent to Suzhou and Hangzhou, and any instructor here would wish for a student to achieve fame. Should a master of calligraphy emerge, it would be a testament to their teaching.

With their decision made, nothing in the room could stop them.

They were human, after all, and curiosity was only natural.

Yet, to preserve protocol, they waited until all rankings were finalized before calling the clerk to unseal the names.

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After the exam, rankings had to be assigned, and only then could the names be revealed without breaking the rules. Only with the names could the clerk transcribe and announce them.

Upon seeing the name, Instructor Cui remained unperturbed, but Instructor Wang was startled.

“It’s him!”

Instructor Cui’s curiosity was piqued by Wang’s surprise. “Brother Wang, do you know this candidate?”

Wang nodded. “I do. If I recite a poem, you will recognize him too.”

“Which poem?”

‘Looking up, I laugh and walk out the door—how could I be a mere weed among men?’

“It’s him!” Instructor Cui immediately knew who he spoke of.

Such wild laughter and confidence were unforgettable.

Of course, Shen Shi had chosen a classic verse. Had he chosen poorly, his reputation would have been quite different.

“Thank you, Brother Wang.” Upon realizing it was Shen Shi, Instructor Cui immediately offered his thanks.

“Why the gratitude?” Wang was a bit confused.

“I must thank you for teaching such a student; Jinhua is truly fortunate!”

Wang felt relieved and could not help but reflect: had he misjudged Shen Shi in the past? The sages said teaching should be without distinction; perhaps he had placed too much emphasis on Shen Shi’s martial background.

Such is the power of poetry gatherings. Through their promotion, and some genuine talent, Shen Shi had carved a space for himself in the circles of literati.

If Shen Shi were his former self, such introspection would never have occurred. Terms like ‘dandy’ and ‘ignorant’ were typically reserved for men of arms, especially those from military families—so much so that people would refuse to believe otherwise.

Some even went so far as to believe bullying men of arms was virtuous.

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