Poor but talented scholar

Chapter 64 Examination Bureau

February 28th, 3:45 AM.

The county town of Qingyang was still shrouded in a cold, bluish-gray fog, but the county government office was already brightly lit with torches, as bright as day.

Lu Chuan was woken up.

He quickly got up and splashed his face with cold water.

He put on a thin coat to keep warm and carried the exam basket in his hand.

When they stepped out of the backyard, Lu Shouye and his sixth uncle were already waiting at the door of the servants' quarters.

The two men's beards were covered in glistening white frost, clearly indicating that they had been waiting in the cold wind for half the night.

"Son, take this." Lu Shouye handed over a warm little cloth bag containing Dingsheng cake that he had just warmed in his arms. "Don't be nervous. Your father and your sixth uncle are squatting under the stone lions at the gate. When you look up, the two of us will be guarding you outside."

Lu Chuan nodded heavily, said nothing more, and turned to disappear into the crowd flowing towards the county government office.

At this time, a line had already formed in front of the county government office.

"Silence! Roll call begins!"

With a loud shout from the clerk of the ceremonial office, the heavy vermilion gate of the county government office slowly opened.

The county magistrate, dressed in his official robes, sat upright in the main hall, his expression dignified.

"Qingyang Academy, Lu Chuan!"

Upon hearing the name called, Lu Chuan took a deep breath and steadily stepped forward, carrying the exam basket.

The strictness of the imperial examination system lay primarily in the rigorous search and inspection process.

Lu Chuan stood in front of the search tent. Two soldiers pointed to the bench: "Loosen your belt and take off your shoes and socks!"

During the Daqian Dynasty, all imperial examinations were subject to inspection.

Lu Chuan unbuttoned his outer robe, allowing the soldiers to roughly rummage through his collar, cuffs, and trouser legs.

The soldiers even took out a long, thin silver needle and poked it hard a few times in the Dingsheng cake that Lu Chuan had brought, to confirm that there was no hidden note inside.

"Bring me the pen."

The soldier took the solid bamboo pen that Lu Chuan had bought, and carefully examined it under the torch to see if there were any hollow marks. He then turned the inkstone over and tapped it to listen to whether the sound was crisp and to determine if there were any hidden layers.

"Bring a water jug, two pieces of dry rations, and a set of writing materials. If you have nothing to hide, you may pass!"

Lu Chuan took the wooden plaque, quickly put on his clothes, though his hair was a little messy.

Following the long corridor, Lu Chuan found his spot, "Number Sixteen of the Heavenly Class".

This was where he would sit there all day, guarding his scrolls. The cell was extremely narrow, no more than three feet wide on each side, with cold, hard blue brick walls on three sides, and the front open, letting in the whistling north wind. Inside, there were two simple wooden planks, one a table and the other a stool.

After Lu Chuan sat down, he first hung the pebbles on the wooden hook, and then skillfully arranged the brush and ink.

At this moment, coughs and the sound of turning pages filled the air.

Some students were so nervous that their teeth were chattering; others were wiping away tears with their heads down because they felt humiliated during the search.

"Thump—thump—thump!"

Three deafening cannon shots rang out in the backyard of the county government office; these were the cannon shots used to seal off the gate.

After the cannon fired, the gates of the examination hall were locked, and no one who was late was allowed to enter, nor were any present allowed to leave.

At this moment, several examiners, holding seals, blocked off the end of each row of cells.

The county magistrate personally inspected the area, followed by two clerks holding vermilion pens. The area was quiet.

"Curl hair!"

Stacks of snow-white exam papers stamped with official seals were distributed to the students.

The first session of the county examination was commonly known as the "main session".

Lu Chuan took the paper but didn't rush to write anything.

He first used a paperweight to hold down the corner of the scroll, closed his eyes to regulate his breathing, and waited until the restlessness in his heart completely subsided before opening his eyes and looking at the title at the beginning of the scroll.

Firstly, there is the question of the meaning of this scripture.

This is the most crucial aspect of the assessment.

The examiner throws out a Confucian classic quote, and the candidate must accurately explain its profound meaning and then develop a grand argument based on it.

Secondly, there is the issue of "breaking the problem" and "pedantic writing".

In the middle section of the exam, candidates are required to break down the given questions into preliminary parts.

This was not yet the formal eight-legged essay style of the provincial examinations, which often consisted of thousands of words, but its prototype had already appeared.

"To solve a problem, every word must be worth a thousand pieces of gold, turning stone into gold."

You must be able to fully explain the profound meaning of the sage's words within a mere hundred words, without appearing dull.

Thirdly, there is the simple essay.

The end of the paper is left with a lot of blank space, requiring candidates to write a short argumentative essay on current education or self-cultivation.

To see if you have your own insights beyond just memorizing, and whether your writing is fluent.

The difficulty of the county examination lies not in how obscure or difficult the questions are, but in its strictness.

To put it simply, the level of this first round was: memorized thoroughly, written coherently, and without making mistakes.

It looks simple, but the elimination rate is actually extremely high. Hundreds of people enter, but only a handful can make it to the next round.

His gaze was sharp as he looked at the main title of the text at the beginning of the scroll:

"Before the emotions of joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure are aroused, it is called equilibrium; when they are aroused and all are in proper measure, it is called harmony."

This question comes from the "Doctrine of the Mean," which is the Confucian principle of self-cultivation.

The examiner set this question not only to test the candidates' interpretation of the original meaning of the classics, but also to see who could truly maintain their composure in this cold and windy examination room.

He picked up his pen and wrote it down.

"The mean is the foundation of the world; harmony is the universal path of the world."

Lu Chuan dipped his brush in ink, and with a flourish, the tip of his brush danced like a dragon playing in water, writing the first sentence of the "Introduction" on the draft paper:

"The correctness of one's temperament lies in the stillness before it is expressed; the appropriateness of movement and stillness is seen in the harmony of moderation."

Lu Chuan held his breath and focused intently on the following short, formulaic passage.

Instead of following the crowd and engaging in empty talk about the realm of saints, he wrote down the trials and tribulations he had undergone over the past year.

In his essay, he wrote:

"The human heart is like water; when still, it is in balance. However, the way to conduct oneself in the world is not to dwell in silence for a long time, but to ensure that the interplay of joy, anger, sorrow, and pleasure is always in accordance with the law. Being impartial and unbiased is called the mean; being without discord or conflict is called harmony."

He wrote this passage with force and conviction.

He was telling the examiners: the cultivation of a scholar is not about being a blockhead in the deep mountains and forests, but about being able to write with proper restraint even when one is filled with joy or anger in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the world and the immense pressure of the examination hall.

In the final, simple essay, Lu Chuan, in high spirits, shifted his focus and wrote a short commentary, drawing on the current situation:

"In my view, scholars today are restless and impatient before they achieve anything, making it difficult to find the right balance; once they achieve something, they become sycophantic and indifferent to harmony. The purpose of studying is not to seek official honor, but to seek the 'harmony' of the heart. To remain calm in the face of great events and to not complain in adversity is true harmony and the mark of a true scholar."

The last sentence, "Remain calm in the face of great events, and do not complain in adversity," is not only an answer to the question, but also a summary of Lu Chuan's own life.

When he finished writing the last word, he brought his brush back to the paper, the ink still wet on the entire scroll.

Lu Chuan placed the brush on the inkstone.

According to the rules, he had to guard the scrolls in this cramped cell.

At this moment, unusual noises could be heard inside the examination room.

A student to Lu Chuan's right rear, perhaps because the phrase "joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness" stirred up long-suppressed bitterness in his heart, threw down his pen in full view of everyone and lay down on the narrow wooden board, crying loudly.

The inspector, with a cold and iron face, strode over, tore up his paper, and chased him out of the examination hall like a chicken.