WSMTATMC C143

Chapter 143

 

The minor examination, like the county-level exam, consisted of five sessions and could be completed in two days.

Before entering the exam hall, candidates were searched. Any student found to be smuggling notes or cheating would not only have their results canceled, but their stipend student title revoked as well. In more serious cases, they would be expelled. Because of this, there was hardly anyone who dared to cheat.

In the morning, the exam tested memorization and transcription of the Classics; in the afternoon, poetry and fu compositions; and on the following morning, it was the policy essay. Once the five sessions were complete, the results would be announced.

As for the Classical transcription and copying, those were basic knowledge tests. The Chen brothers’ strongest point was their memory. When it came to rote memorization and recitation, virtually nothing slipped from their minds.

The poetry portion differed slightly from county and prefectural preliminary exams where descriptions of scenery would be the main topic. This time, the subject was “Moved by the Border Beacons,” a regulated five-character, six-rhyme poem.

The candidates were instructed to take the sincere loyalty of Du Fu’s “Various Generals” as its framework, and the earnest emotion of Bai Juyi’s “Song of Qin” as its spirit. They were to either describe the sufferings of border soldiers, express pity for the hardships of farmers, praise the talents of capable generals, or propose strategies from the court.

This topic was meant to test whether the examinee held the welfare of the common people in their heart and possessed aspirations to benefit the masses. The lines needed to adhere to strict parallelism, while still avoiding emptiness and superficial embellishment.

This was precisely the kind of practical poetry at which Chen Qingyan excelled. Ironically, if he had been asked to compose a purely descriptive or sentimental piece, his performance would have been more ordinary.

Since the subject dealt with the frontier, naturally it involved warfare.

The Wu Dynasty had been established for more than a century and could be considered relatively stable, yet the borderlands were never fully pacified.

Just a few years earlier, the northern Qiang had invaded and occupied both Western Prefecture and Ting Prefecture.

Although the population of those two regions was largely composed of non-Han peoples, the land had belonged to China since ancient times. More importantly, their locations were strategic, lying along western trade routes.

The emperor dispatched the Northwestern Army to recover the territory. The campaign took more than a year and resulted in thousands of casualties, and in the end, only two abandoned cities were retaken.

The reason was that the inhabitants of Western and Ting Prefectures had been either slaughtered by the invaders, fled to neighboring Loulan and Kucha, or only a small portion returned home once the territories were regained.

This military campaign stirred heated debate at court. Many officials believed that spending so much money and grain for this was meaningless.

Western Prefecture lay over one hundred thousand li from the capital, its land barren and largely desert—hardly worthy of contest.

But military men thought differently. Surrounding those prefectures was a mountain range that formed a natural barrier. If left in the hands of outsiders, once they regained their strength, it would be easy for them to advance on the heartland.

The debate went back and forth without conclusion. Going by the emperor’s attitude, it seemed he intended to abandon further conquests, yet still invested heavily each year in the Northwestern Army, merely to hold the two border prefectures.

Having learned these practical issues from Elder Liang, Chen Qingyan found it easy to frame his poem.

After some deliberation, he began to write:

“Beyond the pass, autumn comes early,

Border dust clouds the yellow sky.

In the watchtower the war horn sounds,

A sick horse lies in the dying sun.

War bones buried long in wastelands,

Soldier’s garb worn on distant field.

When will the beacons cease to blaze,

So steeds may return to Huashan’s slopes?”

To be able to produce such a poem in so short a time was outstanding indeed.

Meanwhile, fellow champion Fang Wenke could not keep up. Normally his poems dealt with flowers and snow, mountains and waters, birds and fish. He rarely touched upon such real-world, political subjects, and so scratched his head without knowing where to start.

As the burning incense shortened, less than half an hour remained before the end, and only then did Fang Wenke begin to write in desperation:

“Beacon fires light the mountain peaks,

The people’s tears run deep.

In border towns reed pipes wail,

Night pestles beat homesick grief.

Soldiers wear thin rations poor,

Lean roofs bear heavy tax.

Who will present a fortress plan?

I only recall Marquis Dingyuan.”

Though his poem met the rhyming requirements, he presented a fatal error—mentioning “Marquis Dingyuan.”

This was a famous general of the previous dynasty who had driven out the Xiongnu, deeply admired among the common people.

But this was the Wu Dynasty. Why bring up a hero of the previous regime? Especially after writing, “Who will present a fortress plan?”—which essentially implied dissatisfaction with current rulers.

Fortunately, this was only the minor examination at the prefectural school. During an official provincial exam, such a poem would verge on treason. A charge of great disloyalty would not have been too much!

Just as he finished transcribing, time was up. Unable to revise, he handed over his paper in disarray.

Because of this poor performance, his later policy essay also did not go well.

After the exam ended, Elder Liang happened to return from his travels. Instead of going home, he came directly to the prefectural school to meet Lu Zhongqi.

The two sat outside the library’s veranda chairs, fanning themselves as they conversed.

“You truly live at ease, coming and going as you like. How was this trip? Encounter anything noteworthy?”

Elder Liang sipped his tea. “Noteworthy? Indeed. I met more than a few bands of mountain bandits.”

Because of the floods last year, many places suffered extreme hardship. Some people, unable to survive, turned to robbery and ambushes.

“While traveling through Shanguang, we hardly slept. By night the raiders swarmed like locusts, coming wave after wave. They didn’t harm people but robbed goods and carriages. Fortunately, Chen Guang was there to protect me. We made it back safely despite the scares.”

Old Lu teased him. “So will you still keep traveling?”

“I must. If one never goes out to see, it’s as if ears are deaf and eyes blind—knowing nothing of the world.”

“I envy you. At my age, I won’t bother. Even if asked, I’m too weary to move, can’t bear the trouble.”

“I envy you instead. Safe in the prefectural school, surrounded by sons and grandsons…”

“You should come teach too. I’m sure the headmaster would carry you in with eight sedan bearers if you agreed!”

Elder Liang laughed, waving his hand. “Forget it. Teaching would mean instructing a crowd of wooden posts. How dreary.”

“Now don’t say that. The masters all praise these students as unusually bright and hardworking.”

“Not sure about bright, but diligent—they are diligent indeed. Since I began teaching them, they have never slacked, faithfully combining agriculture and study. A rare thing.”

Lu Zhongqi agreed. “We’ll see at this minor exam. Qingyan and Qinghuai will certainly win high ranks.”

At the prefectural school, the top ten ranked almost guaranteed, with steady performance, they would pass the provincial exam and become licentiates. Thus, this minor exam was taken seriously.

“What of Changyi?”

At mention of his disciple, Old Lu’s head ached. “His mind is capable enough, but under pressure, he stalls—always one step short. I don’t know if this time he’ll manage well.”

Liang chuckled. “Don’t worry. That pressure is about to come.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Liu and Chen families will soon be joined by marriage. With his future brothers-in-law so capable, if Liu Changyi does worse, he won’t be able to raise his head before his bride.”

“Truly? That’s wonderful news!”

The two old men clapped their hands, laughing with schadenfreude.

When the exam results came, Chen Qingyan fulfilled expectations and took first place!

His paper was pasted on the wall for students of all four classes—A, B, C, and D—to study. Everyone who read it nodded in admiration, conceding that the top ranking was well deserved.

Second place remained with Lin Zhen. Once again outshone by Chen Qingyan, he hovered with frustration, poring over both papers to find where he lacked.

Third place went to Yun Huainan, from the previous exam cohort. Already twenty-eight, he was older than most, said to have only passed as a tongsheng (child student) at age twenty-five, then rising step by step to licentiate, even taking second place in the last prefectural exam—a classic late-bloomer.

Chen Qinghuai ranked tenth. Somewhat disappointing, but looking at the names ahead of him—each an outstanding talent—there was nothing to be ashamed of.

Chen Qinghuai clenched his fists, vowing to work harder, to at least reach the top five next time and chase his elder brother’s footsteps.

Liu Changyi came in fourteenth—his best performance yet! He almost leapt with joy; last exam, he was sixteenth, nearly falling out of Class A entirely.

Chen Qingsong, meanwhile, scraped into Class A with the very last qualifying rank, nineteenth. This stunned them all.

Ruffling his little brother’s hair, Chen Qingyan grinned. “Good boy, working hard in secret, are you?”

Chen Qingsong’s smile showed every tooth. “All my brothers are in Class A—I have to keep up! Otherwise everyone would forget the Chens are four brothers!”

The true failure this time was Fang Wenke.

Knowing his poetry had been poor, he skipped the top ten rankings altogether, scanning lower for his name. He searched half the list and still didn’t see it.

Disbelieving, he checked again. The glaring sight of Chen Qingyan’s name at the top only stabbed his eyes with pain. Looking lower, his name was nowhere in the top forty of Class A.

“Impossible…” he muttered.

Beside him, a classmate exclaimed, “Wenke, how did you end up in Class B?”

Casting his eyes aside, he froze: there his name was, ranked third in the Class B list. Overcome by shame and rage, he ran away.

Others whispered, only a few close friends chasing after him to console.

“Don’t be discouraged, Wenke. With your ability, this isn’t where you belong. You just slipped this time, surely you’ll return next exam.”

“Of course. You’ll be back in Class A.”

But Fang Wenke’s ears burned. The more he thought, the angrier he grew. Was he truly not even equal to the youngest Chen student?

“This ranking must be wrong. I’ll ask the masters myself!” he declared, hurrying to the teachers’ hall.

Before he knocked, he heard voices inside.

“Wasn’t Fang Wenke the previous year’s champion? How did he end up in Class B?”

“Look at his paper. This poem he wrote…”

The group read it and promptly changed expressions. “Hide it quickly! Don’t let others see!”

“How reckless! To dare mention the generals of the former dynasty?! If this spreads, his examination path will be severed!”

Outside, Fang Wenke froze as if doused by a bucket of ice water. He remembered his poem, and his scalp turned numb…

“What’s wrong with me? Each exam worse than the last…”

Master Du of Class A shook his head in anguish. “This child doesn’t place his heart in his studies. Believing himself gifted, he competes only with style and embellishment. I’ve warned him twice, and he ignored me. At this rate, the provincial exam will be hopeless.”

Fang Wenke left with his soul crushed, realizing at last his mindset was broken. Since the poetry contest, he had unconsciously compared himself with the Chen brothers, consumed with envy that they had learned under capable teachers.

This had led him to flock with so-called ‘talents,’ indulging in poetic games and mutual flattery to prove superiority. But the result was the neglect of his actual studies. In earlier exams, he could still hold a top rank, but this year not even the top ten, and now out of Class A entirely—it was as if struck awake by a hammer.

He had studied all these years not to show off talent, but to pass the exams and become an official.

Awakened now, Fang Wenke rallied his resolve, swearing that in the next minor exam, he would return to Class A!

This transformation was unknown to the Chen brothers. They had taken several days’ leave, for it was almost time for Qingyun and Liu Changyi’s betrothal ceremony.

Footnotes:

1. Prefectural School (府学, Fǔxué): The highest level of local government-sponsored school, preparing students for the provincial-level imperial examinations. 
2. Tongsheng (童生, tóngshēng): The lowest-ranked examination candidate, not yet qualified as a licentiate. 
3. Licentiate (秀才, xiùcái): The first official degree in the imperial examination hierarchy, granting tax and legal privileges, as well as stipends. 
4. Class A / Class B: Divisions within the prefectural school based on exam performance. Placement determined social standing and future prospects. 
5. Marquis Dingyuan (定远侯): A celebrated general of the previous dynasty. To invoke him in poetry during Wu Dynasty exams was politically dangerous, as it suggested admiration for a former regime.