Xu Qinghuan casually set the half-read illustrated booklet down on the desk.
“Your reputation has spread throughout the capital, and the prestige of a Runner-Up Laureate has been established as well.” Xu Qinghuan broke the silence in the room.
She lifted her teacup. “Xu Zijin, have you decided on the specific plans for your next step?”
“The debate on the long street was merely the opening move—a warning shot across the bow.” Xu Zijin’s voice was low. “Using the momentum of the autumn examination results, we will tear open the first breach in the aristocratic clans’ monopoly over classical learning. If all we seek is a momentary thrill, then within half a month today’s argument will be suppressed by the court censors under the charge of ‘bringing disgrace upon scholarly decorum.’”
Xu Qinghuan held her teacup without replying, waiting for him to continue.
“What I want is not to fight for victory within rules they have set.” Xu Zijin’s voice was bold, filled with a domineering grandeur that seemed capable of swallowing mountains and rivers. “I want to establish an entirely new school of thought among the scholars of the realm!”
The moment he said this, Xu Wuyou, seated below them, looked up with shining eyes.
Xu Zhan scratched his head. He clearly did not fully understand the implications, but he could tell that the ambition behind those words was enormous.
A flash of admiration crossed Xu Qinghuan’s eyes, and she applauded in approval.
“What courage!” Xu Qinghuan praised loudly. “Smash the old memorial archway, then raise a new banner of your own. With such grand ambitions—to break through the deadlock and establish something new—you have not let down all the effort this Princess has spent maneuvering and planning these past few days!”
Hearing this, the sternness on Xu Zijin’s face transformed into reverence. He spoke with heartfelt sincerity. “Everything I understand today about the principles of reality is thanks to the several peerless ancient texts bestowed upon me by the Princess!”
He raised his head, his eyes filled with awe. “The Records of Practical Transmission and The Primer of Qi Studies—each one contains isolated truths that seem to seize the secrets of Heaven and Earth. Not only did the Princess unreservedly impart the Xu family’s inherited secret texts to me, she also patiently guided me whenever I was confused. Such a grace of rebirth and recreation—I truly do not know how I could ever repay it!”
Sitting on the cushioned couch, Xu Qinghuan could not help recalling that the so-called “inherited secret texts” were nothing more than fragments of renowned works she had exchanged on credit through the system.
A faint flush of warmth rose to her cheeks.
Xu Qinghuan coughed lightly, picked up the tea beside her, and took a large sip with her head lowered.
She set down the cup, her expression once again returning to its solemn, proper composure, and swiftly brought the conversation back on course.
“Even the finest ancient text is useless without the right person to read it.” Xu Qinghuan’s tone grew serious. “But don’t celebrate too soon. By tearing away the aristocratic clans’ dignity in public, you have guaranteed that they will submit a joint memorial and attack you with both pen and tongue. But that is still only a secondary concern.”
Xu Zijin’s brows drew together slightly. “You mean the imperial court?”
A trace of amusement appeared on Xu Qinghuan’s face. “I mean First Prince Xiao Jingxing… He should be preparing to make his move.”
…
Night descended over the capital and its surrounding lands.
The lamps within the imperial city gradually went out, but in the streets and alleys of the southern outer city, the aftershocks of the long-street debate were surging violently among impoverished scholars and failed examinees.
A low-ranking dormitory at the Imperial Academy.
The wicks of the three oil lamps inside had been turned up high. Their bean-sized flames illuminated more than a dozen flushed faces.
Li Ke held a copy of The Complete Record of the Long-Street Debate in his hands, his voice already hoarse beyond recognition.
“Truth lies within practical affairs! Xu, the provincial runner-up, explained it perfectly!” Li Ke slammed the record onto the three-legged wooden table, making the flames shudder. “Those aristocratic clans use obscure classical commentaries to suppress us—not because those commentaries are the only correct path, but because they possess libraries while we do not! If we retreat again today, the examination system of Great Qian will remain the private preserve of the aristocratic clans forever!”
Several fellow students standing nearby had eyes equally reddened by sleeplessness. The frustration they had accumulated over countless days of defeat was swept away entirely by the words printed in black and white.
“Brother Li is right! We study to govern the nation and secure the people. Why must we gnaw away at obscure wording according to rules set by the Grand Academician of the Imperial Academy?”
“Exactly! Xu, the provincial runner-up, dared to speak out in the face of the entire street. Even if we have yet to obtain academic honors, we absolutely cannot let these arguments fade into silence!”
In several inns throughout the outer city, the failed examinees likewise remained awake through the night.
They carried wine jars, pounded on the tables, and loudly recited passages from the record. Long
“We can no longer study in isolation!” Li Ke stood among the gathered students and swept his gaze across them. “The Zheng clan of Xingyang has its ancestral network, and the scholarly factions of Jiangnan have their academies. If we wish to investigate the truth of practical affairs, we must unite people’s hearts!”
He found a worn sheet of paper, took up a brush, and forcefully wrote three large characters: The Society for Seeking Truth.
“We seek only the truths of Heaven and Earth, and ask nothing of family traditions or a teacher’s lineage! Gentlemen, who is willing to form this society with me?”
“Count me in!”
“And me!”
In the space of a single night, more than a dozen new scholarly societies spontaneously sprang up across the twelve wards of the capital.
“The Society for Seeking Truth,” “The Hall of Illuminated Principles,” “The Studio of Practical Learning”… One after another, crude yet boldly inked wooden plaques appeared outside inns, teahouses, and even side rooms in Buddhist temples.
These scholarly societies cast aside the old habits of educated men, who had gathered to compose poems, admire the breeze and moon, and consort with courtesans.
The young scholars sat in circles, several pieces of charcoal placed before them, and engaged in heated discussions about the evolution of Heaven and Earth.
When tempers flared, some even rolled up their sleeves and shoved one another.
Yet this trend of championing rational investigation was spreading rapidly.
In the end, the pens of scholars could not outrun the wheels of merchants chasing profit.
The merchants of the marketplace possessed a nose for profit far keener than that of lofty men of letters.
The booksellers and private engravers throughout the wards had already glimpsed the immense fortune hidden behind this new scholarly debate by the afternoon the examination results were released.
In the rear workshop of the Forest of Books Pavilion.
Dozens of windproof lanterns illuminated the courtyard as brightly as day. The air was thick with the pungent smell of ink and the harsh scent of wood shavings.
The Fat Shopkeeper, bare-chested, slammed a bag of newly collected silver onto the center of the courtyard.
“Listen up!” the Fat Shopkeeper bellowed. “No one is sleeping tonight! There’s a heavy reward! Five qian of silver for completing one printing block! Three qian for printing a hundred copies! The money is here for the taking. Anyone who dares slow down even half a step can get out of the Forest of Books Pavilion immediately!”
The dozen or so apprentices and engravers instantly reddened with excitement. How could they let such an opportunity pass?
The engraving knives in their hands began flying even faster across the jujube-wood blocks.
Xu Zijin’s denunciations of the aristocratic clans’ old customs on the long street were swiftly carved into raised characters.
Ink was brushed on, paper laid over the blocks, wooden brushes pressed across the sheets, and the paper peeled away.
The work proceeded like a flowing stream, without pause, day or night.
The freshly printed examination essays and debate records were still warm with ink when the apprentices hurriedly carried them to the front courtyard.
The booksellers clutched the booklets in their hands, which had not even been given time for proper covers or fine binding.
At dawn the next day, before the morning mist had dispersed, large quantities of the records, exuding a rich fragrance of ink, were bundled with hemp rope in the rear courtyards of the various bookshops.
Clever merchants, wrapped in thick cotton coats, rapidly marked figures in their account books with writing brushes while loudly directing dozens of porters.
“Pack them tightly! Wrap them in thick oiled paper and seal the crates properly! Don’t let the damp from the river seep inside!”
The packed wooden crates were pushed away on cart after cart.
Hundreds upon hundreds of heavy crates soon filled the warehouses along the canal wharves and the courier stations outside the capital.
With the first drumbeat announcing the breaking dawn—
“Open the lock!”
The gates of the Grand Canal swung open. A dozen deep-draft cargo ships, loaded to the waterline, raised their sails and sped southward with the current.
Along the courier road, wave after wave of swift horses and mule carts escorted by armed escort agencies raced toward the various routes of the Central Plains.
