Song Yu raised his eyes and looked toward Emperor Yuanyou in the hall.
Bathed in the morning light, Song Yu couldn’t quite discern the emperor’s expression.
But he could unmistakably feel Emperor Yuanyou’s earnest gaze—they were not just ruler and subject, but also father and son.
After a few moments, Emperor Yuanyou motioned for Shen Mingwen to approach.
Shen Mingwen stepped forward, bowed respectfully, then retrieved the examination questions from the emperor’s desk and handed them to the Minister of Rites.
The entire process unfolded in complete silence.
The newly selected candidates each found their assigned desks and, upon seating themselves, turned their attention to the questions before them.
The topic Emperor Yuanyou had settled on concerned the welfare of the people:
"Lightening taxes and labor duties to enrich the people’s livelihood, opening granaries to relieve disaster-stricken regions—yet if such policies persist, might the state’s coffers face insufficiency? How should this be resolved?"
When Song Yu saw the question, the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
So the old man was still troubled by the treasury’s emptiness at the end of last year, fretting over the same predicament this year.
Just look at how he phrased it—forcing candidates to choose between benevolent governance and a well-stocked treasury.
Unable to resist, Song Yu glanced up again at Emperor Yuanyou, only to meet the emperor’s eyes directly.
As if reading the mockery in Song Yu’s gaze, Emperor Yuanyou’s face darkened.
These are the empire’s brightest minds gathered here today—what’s wrong with asking for solutions?
If I didn’t ask, this brat and that third son of the Shen family would be left racking their brains dry. I’m doing him a favor!
Suppressing a smirk, Song Yu lowered his head and began to ponder.
The palace examination lasted an entire day, ending at sunset.
None of the candidates had yet put brush to paper, all lost in thought over how to tackle the dilemma.
......
On his draft paper, Song Yu circled "treasury sufficiency" almost without hesitation.
After all, the old man was genuinely obsessed with avoiding empty coffers!
A single line suggesting temporary financial strain would likely disqualify one from the top honors.
Yet benevolent policies couldn’t be ignored either...
Song Yu stared blankly at the empty space on the page.
Suddenly, his eyes lit up.
Got it!
He picked up his brush, jotting down a rough outline on the draft before estimating the total word count. Satisfied, he began writing his final response:
"Your servant’s reply: A nobleman attends to the root, for with the root established, the Way unfolds. Benevolent governance is no transient charity, nor are state reserves merely grain in storehouses. That Your Majesty considers this is truly the empire’s fortune. Your servant humbly proposes ‘broadening sources and curtailing expenditure’ as guiding principles, for Your Majesty’s consideration."
Years of practice had refined Song Yu’s calligraphy—each stroke balanced, each line firm and elegant, a pleasure to behold.
Just from the opening passage, he felt certain this essay would strike Emperor Yuanyou’s heart.
Next, he elaborated on methods for broadening revenue and reducing waste.
How to broaden revenue?
Song Yu’s lips curled. Simple enough!
Expand the borders—conquer neighboring states, and once stabilized, new revenue streams would follow.
Develop irrigation, improve canal transport to mitigate droughts and floods, ensuring bountiful harvests—another source of wealth.
As for cutting waste? Even easier.
Purge the incompetent, enforce harsh penalties for corruption—that alone would curb unnecessary spending.
Song Yu wrote fluidly, barely pausing. The officials observing him, already keenly interested, grew even more curious.
This was no easy question to answer.
A narrow perspective would doom one’s response—how would the top candidate fare?
Emperor Yuanyou, too, kept glancing at Song Yu. Eventually, he stood and descended from the dais.
As the emperor passed, every candidate’s hand trembled uncontrollably.
To have the Son of Heaven so close—what an unparalleled honor!
Yet Emperor Yuanyou didn’t head straight for Song Yu. Instead, he veered toward a candidate seated farther back.
Abruptly, the candidate’s brush slipped from his fingers, clattering to the floor.
Panicked, the man bent to retrieve it, only to trip over his chair and collapse at the emperor’s feet.
"Take him away," Emperor Yuanyou commanded.
The candidate’s face drained of color as he was escorted silently from the palace.
To act improperly before the throne was punishable.
The emperor’s expression remained unreadable as he finally turned toward Song Yu.
The imperial exams select officials—if one trembles at my presence, how can they govern?
......
Emperor Yuanyou stopped beside Song Yu, peering sideways at his paper.
First, he admired the exquisite calligraphy—pleased—then read further, his satisfaction growing.
Truly my son—like a worm in my belly, knowing exactly what I want!
Every word aligned perfectly with his desires.
But then—
His eye caught a freshly inked passage, and a vein throbbed at Emperor Yuanyou’s temple.
"Your servant has heard reports from all regions—flooded lands where homes are rebuilt, famine-stricken areas where the starving receive grain, cheers rising to the heavens, signs of revival in the fields. This is no trivial kindness, but a profound strategy to nurture the nation’s lifeblood."
"Nurture the nation’s lifeblood"? This brat wasn’t praising his emperor—he was shamelessly lauding himself!
Bragging about rebuilding houses in Laijin Prefecture, sending grain to the northern deserts.
Yes, he’d upheld the royal dignity—but emptied the treasury doing it!
Emperor Yuanyou nearly wept.
Gritting his teeth, he resolved to make the brat personally handle "broadening sources and curtailing expenditure."
Expand borders? Let the Qin Prince lead the armies.
Develop irrigation? Let the Qin Prince oversee it.
Purge corruption? Let the Qin Prince inspect it.
After mentally dumping this mountain of responsibilities onto the Qin Prince’s Mansion, the emperor felt considerably lighter. He leisurely wandered back to his throne.
After my rounds, it’s clear—this brat’s top honors are secured.
But... when else would he get a chance to turn the tables and extort Song Yu?
The little schemer in Emperor Yuanyou’s mind began concocting ideas with fervor.
Meanwhile, Song Yu, seated below, suddenly felt an inexplicable chill.
Who’s plotting against me now? That damned fourth brother again?
The examination continued until sunset, when the gong sounded, and all candidates laid down their brushes.
Officials collected the papers one by one. Once all were gathered, the candidates bowed to Emperor Yuanyou and filed out of the palace.
As he stepped beyond the gates, Zheng Fang sighed.
"I wonder if I’ll ever set foot here again."
When the emperor had passed him earlier, his heart had nearly leapt from his chest.
Yet he still longed to return—to don official robes, to truly serve the people of Daqi.
"There’ll be chances," Song Yu clapped him on the shoulder. "Just wait."
Plenty of opportunities ahead.
