Volume One: A Peasant at Dawn Chapter 45: Intercepting the Topic

The second round of the prefectural examination was an essay on miscellaneous topics.

When Chuliu received the exam paper, he couldn’t help but smile.

The topic was: “Rites Speak of Jade.”

Many candidates, upon seeing this, would surely stare blankly, unable to grasp the meaning behind these three words.

But Chuliu understood at once—this was a “cut-and-paste” question.

Such questions in the prefectural exam were usually straightforward, often borrowing a phrase from the Four Books, then extracting a word or two to form the topic.

For instance, Chuliu had once practiced on a mock question titled “Gazing at Wild Geese,” drawn from the sentence in Mencius: “The king stood beside the marsh, gazing at wild geese and deer.”

“Rites Speak of Jade” originated from the Analects: “Rites, rites, is it merely jade and silk?” This one cut and spliced the beginning and ending of the original sentence, making it considerably more difficult.

With this topic, a great number of candidates would surely be eliminated.

To tackle such a question, one must first find its source, comprehend the original meaning, then organically combine the selected parts, and firmly anchor the central theme to the teachings of Confucius and Mencius.

With a clear outline in his mind and the central idea established, Chuliu began drafting his essay.

He checked the outline for errors, then wrote a draft.

A fine essay requires repeated refinement.

He revised and polished his work over and over, losing all sense of time until noon arrived.

He set aside his brush, ate a little, revised the essay once more, then copied it neatly onto the exam paper, and submitted it at the sound of the bell.

Stepping out of the examination hall, Chuliu’s steps felt especially light.

He recited his essay aloud; upon hearing it, Wen Lan Cang showered him with praise, declaring that it was certain to rank in the top ten.

When Su Biao came out and shared the gist of his own essay, Wen Lan Cang also approved.

Back at the inn, Wen Lan Cang continued to coach the two of them on policy essays.

In his mind, both disciples had already passed the second round.

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When the results for the second round were posted, only one hundred eighty-six names appeared.

Chuliu ranked first, Su Biao third.

Of all the candidates from Xuan County, only five made the list; besides the two of them, there were Zhao Shao, Li Shuo, and Jin Ruizhe, but their ranks were all above one hundred.

The next day was the third and most crucial round of the prefectural exam—the policy essay.

Policy essays called for counsel and proposals, testing candidates’ insights into state affairs.

This round lasted two days, requiring candidates to stay overnight in the examination shed.

It was a trial not only of knowledge and talent, but also of physical endurance and willpower.

A true battle.

There were three questions in total: one on water conservancy construction, one on the pros and cons of promoting agriculture and restraining commerce, and one on frontier stability.

Upon reading the three topics, Chuliu sighed softly.

This was the limitation of a farmer’s son.

Children of farming families had narrow horizons, little exposure to national matters, and could only rely on their readings of ancient cases, which was already considered erudite.

If not for his wide reading and the fortune of a good teacher, he himself could only theorize on paper for such questions.

But now, he no longer suffered these shortcomings.

He could even incorporate perspectives from his previous life, giving each policy essay freshness and depth that others simply could not match.

No other candidate had this advantage.

He put aside his complaints, composed himself, and began outlining each essay one by one.

Outline finished, he wrote drafts.

After completing the first essay, he revised it, then tackled the second, and so on.

By the time all three drafts were done, it was already dinnertime.

The exam hall provided hot water and simple meals—just rice with vegetables—yet Chuliu finished every grain.

After all, the exam demanded physical strength too.

After his meal, he stretched his legs, then made a trip to the chamber pot, sealing it tightly afterward to keep its pungent scent contained.

When the attendants brought blankets, Chuliu put his paper away, pushed together two planks as a makeshift bed, wrapped himself in the quilt, and lay down.

Fortunately, as a child, he could stretch out comfortably on this simple bed.

A tall adult would have had to curl up like a shrimp.

Having already committed his essays to memory, Chuliu lay there, word by word, scrutinizing each argument, replacing impractical examples with fresh, reality-tested insights.

He lay in bed revising for a long time, then slipped in a few lines praising the emperor—subtle flattery is an art, after all; it must please without seeming forced.

The exam was taxing, and before he knew it, Chuliu drifted off to sleep.

In the morning, he emptied the chamber pot, rearranged the planks into a desk and stool, and hunched over his drafts, making final adjustments—pruning or expanding as needed.

Each essay had a word limit; too few or too many words would lose points.

When he felt his essays were flawless, he transcribed them onto the answer sheets.

The third round did not allow early submission, so after finishing, Chuliu closed his eyes to rest until the final bell rang, then waited quietly for the examiners to collect the papers.

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Back at the inn, Chuliu and Su Biao summarized their essays for Wen Lan Cang, who was very pleased.

Then, the two enjoyed a hearty meal, bathed, and fell into a deep sleep.

The results would not be posted for three days, so Su Laibao led them on outings to mountains and rivers, dispelling the tension of the exam days.

Three mornings later, a light drizzle fell from the sky.

Even rainy weather could not dampen the candidates’ eagerness; they gathered from all directions at the gates of the examination academy, anxiously awaiting the results.

Su Laibao bought five umbrellas, and the group of five proceeded carefully, wary of stepping into puddles and soaking their shoes.

Su Biao was uneasy.

He felt he had written well, and Wen Lan Cang had assured him he would pass.

But the prefectural exam hinged on the policy essay, and the grading depended heavily on the examiners’ preferences.

No matter how well he wrote, if an examiner disliked his perspective, he would not score highly.

Becoming a licentiate was his minimum wish; otherwise, he would have to take the county exam all over again.

Chuliu was certain he would pass, but as for ranking first, he had no certainty—policy essays depended on the whims of the graders.

Of course, taking the top spot would be delightful, but if not, it didn’t matter.

At the appointed hour, the official in charge of posting the results came out to hang the list. The usually courteous scholars now pushed and jostled, oblivious to their feet splashing in the water.

“Don’t crowd, don’t crowd! For everyone’s convenience, today the results will be posted in three different places…”

At the official’s shout, the crowd divided, and two groups dispersed elsewhere.

“Shuxian, you’re the top scorer in the prefecture!”

Wen Lan Cang’s cry of delight drew everyone’s eyes to Chuliu.

Doumiao joyfully lifted Chuliu in his arms, whispering, “My son is first again…”

Su Biao scanned the list; finding his name at ninth, he confirmed it several times before exclaiming with delight, “Hey! I passed!”

Su Laibao breathed a sigh of relief.

Su Biao’s success meant his first wish was fulfilled. So long as he passed the provincial exam next year, all his efforts would be worthwhile.

Looking further down, four candidates from Xuan County had made the list.

Zhao Shao was sixty-second, Li Shuo one hundred thirty-second—the very tail end of those who passed.

Jin Ruizhe had been eliminated.

Not long ago, he had mocked Qin Shiqi for having to start over from the county exam, but now he too would have to begin anew.

How ironic.

The outcome of this final elimination was just like the first.

Like a deflated ball, Jin Ruizhe slunk away, lost and dejected, terrified of others’ ridicule.