ITIEQ C7

Chapter 7 – The Yanlin Yue Clan

At the end of Sajin Alley, before the gates of Qingbei Academy, the entire street still lay in deserted silence.

Once this half a street had belonged to the Prince of Ying’s estate. But when the Prince of Ying plotted rebellion, exterminated with his three clans, no new residents had ever dared move into this inauspicious place.

The value of the residence Shen Qinghe had purchased had plummeted as a result.

Gazing at the empty street, Shen Qinghe pondered a moment before striding into the Academy gates. Punctually at the hour of Chenⁱ, he pushed open the classroom door. Inwardly he communed with the system: “On the first day, let me not catch anyone being late.”

Indeed, no one was late. All four students sat already at their desks.

“Greetings, Teacher.” Shan Bowen led the others in a bow.

“Good morning, classmates… Wait—you all…” Shen Qinghe’s words choked off, stunned by the black circles shading their eyes. “Don’t tell me someone was jealous you passed into Qingbei and beat you up?”

“No, Teacher—we only stayed up late reading…” The Academy’s oil-lamps had burned bright into the night, and each youth was too thrilled to sleep; they had read until dawn.

Shan Bowen rubbed his nose, embarrassed—he did not wish the teacher to think them unschooled bumpkins.

But Shen Qinghe, seeing their exhausted faces, found it identical to those nights of his former life—three project deadlines piled at once, napping amidst laboratory instruments. He gave ready approval. “Such spirit! If you love reading so much, fine—two thousand words of handwritten reflection. No plagiarism. Deliver tomorrow.”

Each student’s desk was piled high with books, fearful others might steal them. Shen Qinghe recalled the mountain of volumes in the library: the system’s baseline ability was to manifest electronic texts into physical books. But transforming an entire room’s worth had cost the system a straight month of constant labor.

He had lain idle for a month in his family home; the system, meanwhile, had worked itself ragged. Indeed, for three days after finishing, it played dead whenever Shen called.

Seating himself, Shen Qinghe lifted a cup of tea already steeped and took a sip.

“Tell me what you read yesterday.”

The calmest, Gao Rong, answered first: “Teacher, my family has been physicians for generations. I studied the Compendium of Materia Medica², the Shennong Herbal Classic³, and others. Certain sections described herbs such as qingxiang, fengteng, and jiezi with effects wholly different from what I knew, and even included preparation methods I had never imagined. Might Teacher clarify these differences?”

Shen Qinghe blinked. So he was a medical student?

You Luo quickly chimed in, not to be outdone: “Master Shen, I focused on The Exploitation of the Works of Nature⁴, and even attempted some devices from its pages—alas, every one failed. It describes bellows, weaving machines… Can such really be made? As one from such a lofty house, might you have perfected models to show us?”

A practical engineer here!

Shan Bowen remained unusually terse today. “I skimmed some agricultural treatises.”

Xu Lesheng bowed slightly. “I fall short of my companions’ lofty aims. I studied commercial works—on methods of amassing wealth. Their techniques were most enlightening; I pray Teacher’s guidance.”

He said it lightly, yet inside he quaked. Medical manuals and agronomy books, rare though they were, at least existed. But merchants—despised in status, most illiterate—guarded their trade secrets more tightly than life itself, passing knowledge only orally across generations, never recording it in print. And yet, here lay whole books of such stratagems!

So: medicine, agriculture, commerce, engineering. By chance, in this little academy the spectrum of scholar-farmer-artisan-merchant-physician⁵ was all represented.

Shen Qinghe massaged his brow, head aching. Diligent though he was, no mortal could possibly master all this. If they truly pursued every subject here, they could raise kingdoms upon infrastructure alone.

At last Shan Bowen weighed his words carefully: “Teacher, the volumes we saw in the library are treasures beyond price. If they could be made public, the common people of the whole realm would be blessed indeed. Might it not be possible…”

But Shen Qinghe shook his head.

Though Shan Bowen had not hoped much, disappointment pricked him nonetheless. He knew it unreasonable to ask. Still, the knowledge seemed miraculous, things that could rescue countless lives. His village at least could rent land, live by crops. Others—nameless refugees, driven from place to place, no land, no food. For their sake, he could not help but ask.

Shen Qinghe said: “That you think thus is good. In poverty, cultivate yourself; with prosperity, serve the world. If you would spread such knowledge, first study, pass the exams, assume office. Then, high as the sky, broad as the sea—you may use your own skill to realize it.”

Better to remember: “an innocent man harboring jade invites theft.”⁶ Right now, they were but one frivolous noble and four poor scholars. Together, not worth one aristocrat’s finger. Flaunting a mountain of gold—what fool does it but beg robbery?

At his words, he could feel their respect deepen. “Thank you, Sir!”

Shan Bowen bent deeply.

“And besides,” Shen Qinghe added, “I am not your specialist lecturer. I will not teach those matters.”

He clapped. A golden head poked timidly through the doorway—thirteen-year-old’s frame, pale skin, round-cheeked.

“Um… hello, everyone.” Eyes downcast under five pairs of stares, the golden-haired, golden-eyed youth stammered: “First time meeting you… You can call me System…”

Shen Qinghe hauled him bodily inside.

“This is my assistant instructor. From now, he is your specialist teacher. Don’t be misled by his age—Teacher Xi knows all under heaven, from astronomy above to geography below. Ask what you like.” He patted the child’s shoulder, studying the dazzling hair and eyes. “Though… are your golden locks and pupils a bit too conspicuous?”

System whispered: “This is my default design. I… can’t change it.”

Shen Qinghe turned—their students’ expressions indeed odd. He explained: “Teacher Xi was born with an unusual appearance, gifted beyond measure.” Pinching the boy’s cheek fondly, he added: “Valued at ten points a day. I can only afford him twenty days—see you make my high salary worth it.”

System protested: “Host, I only provide companionship service!”

Shen Qinghe’s look said “whatever you say is true.” “To accompany one is to accompany; to accompany many is to accompany. Children should obey.”

(Why not? A system suffers no hunger or sleep. Perfect 007⁷ availability!)

Satisfied, he nodded. “You truly are the treasure of the shop—worth every point.”

System’s ears flushed red. “Well… I also think so.”

A young master head of the Academy was strange enough. A golden-haired boy teacher stranger still. And yet—remembering those endless books, none could feel resentment. Perhaps he was a younger brother under Teacher Shen’s care.

They turned to look at the flaxen-haired child, eyes dazzled. Well, though his looks are odd, he seems gentle. Surely not too hard to manage…

Shen Qinghe clapped them back to order. “Now, the main point. Morning, general subjects; afternoon, specialists. Your textbooks for culture studies are in the first shelf to the left in the library. In one week, read through once, then choose your direction. Details will be given by Teacher Xi.”

Seeing them weary from their night’s vigil, Shen Qinghe smiled sweetly—but his tone carried steel. “Regardless of all-night reading—in my classes, if anyone dares to sleep—you’ll regret it.”

“Next week, I check results. Good luck, classmates!”

—

Leaving the Academy, Shen Qinghe climbed into his carriage en route to the palace.

He entered just as court session ended, joining the line of new jinshi led by the Vice Minister of Rites—his father, Shen Zhao. Seeing his son stroll in belatedly, Shen Zhao speared him with a glare.

Shen Qinghe only grinned weakly and tucked himself at the tail—the results had ranked him far too low for the front.

After routine searching, they were marched through hall after vermilion gate, finally set before the Hall of Governance. The sun hung blazing overhead, drums resounded, and they knelt upon the crimson steps awaiting Emperor Zhaohuan.

Shen Qinghe knew this hall too well—hardly a place of happy memory. He glanced sideways. All his peers strained to calm their excitement, eyes alight. Only the man in the very front seemed wholly different—crown high, boots firm, bearing neither servility nor arrogance, a pillar standing tall.

Shen Qinghe jabbed his neighbor with an elbow. “Who’s that at the front?”

The man sniffed. “You don’t know? What bumpkin are you? See the whorled lotus scroll upon his robe—it marks him a son of the Yue clan.”

The Yue clan.

Already the name thundered in Shen Qinghe’s ears. This was the Yanlin branch of Yue—supreme among the Five Surnames and Seven Great Clans⁸.

Shen Qinghe narrowed his eyes. “Today at last, face to face with a Yue scion—exactly as I imagined.”

The perfect thorn in the side.

His neighbor sighed in admiration. “Naturally. A model of noble grace. We can but look up in awe.”

After a time waiting, the Emperor arrived. All candidates prostrated with five bows and three prostrations—save only the Yue heir, who merely inclined his body in salute.

When they rose, Shen Qinghe whispered: “Why doesn’t he kneel?”

The other man rolled his eyes. “Because it was only by the Yue clan’s support that the founder ascended the throne. By decree, all Yue scions are exempt from the rituals of prostration.”

Shen Qinghe nodded, making a mental note: Factional academic hegemon—defiant, arrogant. Buffs stacked to the heavens.

The Emperor ascended high upon his seat. Each candidate took his place.

The Palace Exam—the dianshi—always saw the Emperor himself set the essay, often on weighty themes of governance. The secrecy ensured no leaks nor cheating, and exposed frauds immediately. It was designed for cases precisely like Shen Qinghe: flukes sneaking into higher rounds.

After thought, Emperor Zhaohuan took brush and wrote.

Eunuch Jin Chang lifted the paper, declaimed aloud:

“An essay upon governance. ‘Administration within must first be rectified before rewards and punishments are set; campaigns abroad must be based upon the selection and training of generals. Thus internal governance precedes, external campaigns succeed.’ Write your strategies.”

The exam was always under the grand heading of state policy—an and rang, “pacifying within, repelling without.” But what, precisely, needed pacification?

Shen Qinghe’s glance slid to the Yue heir in the front.

Already pens scratched the paper—some scholars chewing fists, some dashing furiously.

Though he knew little of state essays, Shen Qinghe was relieved: Great Yong essays were not shackled by the “Eight-legged style”⁹ of the later Ming. Improvisation was entirely feasible.

He felt a gaze; lifting eyes, he caught Eunuch Jin Chang smiling at him. Perplexed but courteous, he smiled back.

He dipped his brush, drew deep ink, and began to write without hesitation.

From the throne, Emperor Zhaohuan noted the exchange, and at a glance, Jin Chang lowered his gaze.

Ministers of Rites and Personnel lined the hall to observe; guards in golden armor lined the columns. The chamber chilled with discipline.

The palace exam allowed little time—designed to test quick mind. Papers gathered, eunuchs passed to reading officials, who reported stand-outs aloud.

Shen Zhao himself twitched with anxiety, signaling his son with eyes. Shen Qinghe only spread palms and shook his head, near earning himself a heart attack.

Among the essays, one outshone all, the Emperor himself praising: “Elegant, rich in meaning, finely written, words and script both superb.” Its author—Yue Jie.

But soon, a problem. An essay was passed up with faces grim. The reading officials hesitated, baffled.

Impatient, Emperor Zhaohuan demanded it.

The paper unfurled. Words plain, the script not decorative. It began:

“The Great Yong is secure; the barbarians themselves submit. Therefore, whoever would repel without, must first pacify within.”

And in commentary:

“The point of ‘repelling without must begin with pacifying within’ lies in emphasizing within—setting it foremost. It affirms outward defense as policy goal, yet demands inward peace as foundation. In sum, I make ‘inner pacification’ my chief labor.”

“To fulfill such a task, obstacles we face include foremost political instability. A key issue: imperial centralization remains weak. Which policies to abolish? Which to retain? Still unresolved.”

“Also, fairness of education…”

“…Therefore, a series of measures: first, strengthen central authority, stabilize politics. Examples: perfect bureaucracy, strict legality, mobilize local officials…”

“Second, since problems are interconnected, especially in selection of officials—we must begin with education. Adjust allocation of educational resources, reform curricula, grasp both efficiency and quality. Assess conditions, integrate resources, strengthen the best…”

“…In conclusion, with unity above and below, grasping rightly the main issue, plus Your Majesty’s enlightened guidance, through these steps outward defense and inner peace shall advance together.”

The essay unfurled—clear, vigorous, shockingly bold for its age.

The seal was broken. Three characters leapt forth—

Shen Qinghe.

Footnotes

1. Hour of Chen (辰时): Traditional time unit, roughly 7–9 a.m.

2. Compendium of Materia Medica (本草纲目): Famous Ming dynasty medical encyclopedia by Li Shizhen, cataloguing drugs.

3. Shennong’s Classic (神农本草经): An ancient foundational herbal text, traditionally attributed to the mythical Shennong.

4. The Exploitation of the Works of Nature (天工开物): 1637 Ming dynasty treatise detailing agriculture, industry, and technology—deemed the earliest encyclopedic Chinese book of technology.

5. Scholar-Farmer-Artisan-Merchant-Physician (士农工商医): The traditional societal classes, here humorously gathered in Shen’s little school.

6. “An innocent man harboring jade invites thieves” (匹夫无罪，怀璧其罪): Classic idiom—possessing valuables alone incurs danger.

7. “007” (Work schedule slang): Slang for exhausting endless work shifts without rest (0 a.m.–0 a.m.–7 days/week). Shen jokes about using the system like a tireless assistant.

8. Five Surnames and Seven Clans (五姓七望): Term for the great aristocratic clans of northern China during certain dynastic eras. Yue is portrayed here as the most powerful.

9. Eight-legged Essay (八股文): Highly rigid essay form mandated in later Ming-Qing exams, despised for stifling expression. Great Yong in the story has no such formality.