Volume One: From Farmer to Courtier Chapter 53: The Stool Is a Genius

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“One bowl of porridge, one meal of rice—always remember their hard-won nature; a thread or a scrap of cloth—forever recall the toil behind material things...”

A group of students gathered around the notice board, loudly reciting the article that had won the first prize, occasionally breaking into praise.

Displayed on the notice board were fifteen essays, all prizewinning submissions on the theme of the “Clean Plate Campaign.”

Xie Shuxian’s “Building the Foundation of Grain Security Through the Clean Plate Initiative” was awarded first prize.

With the conclusion of the essay contest and the prize money distributed to the authors, the county academy was swept by a wave of thrift and frugality.

The “Clean Plate Campaign” proved highly effective.

Anyone who dared waste food would inevitably become the target of public censure.

...

Practicing martial arts was truly arduous, but Chuliu and Su Biao managed to persevere and did not become deserters.

Especially Su Biao, who showed great enthusiasm for martial arts, rising early and training late into the night.

He even boasted to Zhao Shao.

One moment he declared he would become a wandering swordsman, the next a great general, and then the supreme commander of all armies under heaven.

Whatever came to mind, he would say.

Zhao Shao was unflappable, responding to all of Su Biao’s ambitions with a single answer: he would become prime minister.

Because the prime minister could command all those Su Biao wanted to be.

To encourage the two in their martial training, Zhou Mo even gave them special permission to leave school early, skipping the final self-study period.

...

In the blink of an eye, June arrived—the time for the seasonal exams.

This time, the county academy increased the difficulty, combining the seasonal and end-of-term exams into one.

Once the exams were over, summer break would begin.

“Xie Shuxian, do you dare sign up for the mathematics exam?”

Running into Chuliu, Li Shuo suddenly stopped and asked.

Chuliu was puzzled, staring at Li Shuo for a moment before replying, “I didn’t choose mathematics as an elective. Why would I take the exam?”

The county academy required not only study of the Four Books and Five Classics but also offered the Six Arts of a Gentleman: Rites, Music, Archery, Charioteering, Calligraphy, and Mathematics.

However, compared to the imperial examination curriculum, the Six Arts seemed rather dispensable.

The school allowed students to choose two out of the six, and those who selected the same elective, regardless of class, would study together.

Just like in modern graduating classes, minor subjects gave way to the main ones.

Of all things, advancement was paramount.

Chuliu had chosen Rites and Calligraphy.

He wanted to study more, but his main task was to pass the preliminary imperial exam.

Of course, he could pass it with minimal effort.

But even among scholars, there were ranks—he wanted to be the best.

Only then could a scholar secure a stable future on state stipend.

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“Aren’t you good at mathematics? You even outdid Master Wu. Isn’t passing the math exam a breeze for you?”

Chuliu recalled the incident.

One day, Li Shuo and other students who had chosen mathematics were discussing a problem.

They had found only three solutions, but their teacher insisted there should be five and told them to keep working.

Yet, try as they might, they couldn’t find all five.

Chuliu glanced at the problem—a word problem involving a system of indeterminate equations.

He quietly set up the equations and solved them, discovering there were actually seven solutions.

He wrote down his answers, and Li Shuo and the others made a commotion, calling their math teacher, Master Wu, over.

Master Wu checked the answers, verified them, and saw they fit the problem. He then asked about Chuliu’s method.

To avoid embarrassing the teacher, Chuliu deliberately said he had substituted values one by one from the start, checking each exhaustively until he found the solutions.

It was a cumbersome method, but it sparked an idea.

For some practical word problems, this approach could work.

Li Shuo pressed his challenge, “Everyone says you’re a genius. I want to see how I measure up. Xie Shuxian, do you dare? If not, then stop claiming to be a genius…”

When did I ever claim to be a genius?

Chuliu, annoyed, chuckled and said, “Fine, I’ll do it. You sign me up and make sure the exam doesn’t clash with my other subjects. Otherwise, I won’t take it.”

With that, he walked away.

Li Shuo was overjoyed.

He was strong in mathematics—last month’s test had placed him first among the scholars.

In Confucian classics, even ten of him couldn’t match one Xie Shuxian.

But in mathematics, Xie Shuxian was no match for him.

He’d always believed Xie Shuxian had stolen his top spot in the county, and resented it.

After entering the academy, Wen Lancang offered extra tutoring to the other three, but not to him.

Why should his peers receive special instruction while he was overlooked?

In the last monthly exam, Xie Shuxian ranked first, Su Biao and Yang Shao were also top scorers, but he was near the bottom.

His resentment only grew; he longed for a chance to humiliate Xie Shuxian.

...

The seasonal exams were particularly grueling—three days of nonstop tests left the students groaning.

Only at the end came the Six Arts exams.

Most students treated them perfunctorily; since the imperial exams didn’t test these, they put their energy into the classics.

Only Xie Shuxian and Li Shuo answered the math exam with seriousness.

Chuliu had studied Da Yan mathematics and found it still at an elementary stage.

Thus, taking the math exam posed little challenge for him—after all, he had studied advanced mathematics.

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When the results came out, Xie Shuxian received “Excellent,” Li Shuo “Good.”

Li Shuo stared at his paper in a daze, then, almost frenzied, rushed over to Chuliu, shouting, “Xie Shuxian, did you cheat? How could you possibly score higher than me? I’m the mathematics prodigy...”

Chuliu smiled faintly. “Li Shuo, haven’t you figured it out yet? It’s not that your mathematical grasp is better, it’s simply that you’re older, so many problems are easier for you to understand. To be blunt, if I were your age, I would already be a master of mathematics.”

Then he stood, climbed onto the bench, patted Li Shuo on the shoulder, and said, “I’ve never claimed to be a genius. I’m merely standing on the shoulders of geniuses...”

He pointed at the bench beneath his feet. “See, this bench is the genius.”

...

Wen Lancang gazed at his son’s exam paper, overwhelmed by mixed emotions.

Zhao Shao’s progress was obvious to all.

During the prefectural exam, he had ranked beyond one hundred, but now he was in the top twenty.

With a bit more effort, he could hope to pass the provincial exam next year.

“Zhao Shao, your improvement is remarkable. I’m gratified. Keep working hard and strive to pass the provincial exam in one go next year...”

“It’s thanks to your guidance, Teacher. I am deeply grateful!”

Zhao Shao bowed deeply.

He knew the reason for his improvement.

Every evening, Wen Lancang would tutor the three of them, targeting their weaknesses.

Each time Zhao Shao tried to offer silver as thanks, Wen Lancang refused.

He insisted that it was a teacher’s duty to instruct his students, and accepting payment would be improper.

Zhao Shao always felt he benefited from Xie Shuxian’s presence.

That time he fought with Gongsun Tao, it was because he had heard something and told Wen Lancang.

“Teacher, there’s something I’d like to ask.”

“Go ahead.”

“Will you continue tutoring Xie Shuxian and Su Biao during the holiday?”

Wen Lancang nodded. “I should.”

“Then I’d like to join as well.”

Wen Lancang paused. “Your family might not approve.”

“I’ll persuade them,” Zhao Shao replied confidently. “The provincial exam is next year, and there are thousands of scholars competing. With such pressure, I’m sure my mother will agree. Besides, in this exam, Xie Shuxian placed first, Su Biao sixth—your erudition is clear to all. I won’t miss out on your instruction.”

“I hope so,” Wen Lancang said.

He wanted his son to join, yet feared that if Zhao Shao learned the truth of his parentage, it might affect his studies.

Thus, while he cared, he kept a measured distance.

Close, yet not too close—he could not let his son sense even the slightest clue.