Chapter 136
The ninth day of the fourth month was the day of the palace examination.
The 353 successful provincial candidates stood in formation before Mounting-Off Bridge under the leadership of the Vice Minister of Rites, waiting to proceed to the Jingshen Hall for the palace examination.
Among the crowd, Hong Ji spotted Tan Shao and the Fifth Young Master Yao. He nodded in greeting, then did not spare them another glance.
Unexpectedly, of the two Yao brothers who had received the most attention in this examination—the Fifth and Sixth Young Masters—the Sixth Young Master Yao had failed, while the Fifth Young Master Yao had placed only 103rd.
By the usual standards, that ranking fell somewhere between the second and third grades. If he performed well in the palace examination, that would be one thing. But if he neither excelled nor made any major mistakes, he would end up among the third-grade candidates who received the title of “Presented Scholar of the Same Rank.”
Such a title was often compared to being born a secondary wife. The Yao family had never produced a member from the third grade. If the Fifth Young Master Yao became the first, the Yao family’s prestige would suffer yet another decline.
It had all begun when the Fourth Madam Yao had acted with the arrogance of her seniority at Cui Lanyin’s birthday banquet, trying to force Cui Lanyin to accept a concubine’s daughter from the Shu family into the palace to accompany the emperor.
Although Cui Lanyin had driven her out on the spot, she had later used the influence of Grand Empress Dowager Chen to humiliate the Yao family even further. Since then, the Yao family had begun keeping a low profile.
The Cui and Jiang families still could not let the matter go. They were unable to accept such relatives who would stab them in the back, and had severed contact with the Yao family altogether.
Strictly speaking, the Hong family was closer to the Yao family. Hong Ji’s paternal grandmother, Elder Madam Tan, had a mother who came from the Yao family.
Some time ago, Tan Shao had invited him to the Tan residence to discuss scholarly matters. Not long after they sat down, the Fifth and Sixth Young Masters Yao had arrived. It appeared to be a coincidence, but Hong Ji knew that it had been arranged by Tan Shao’s wife, the Seventh Miss Yao.
The Yao family had wanted to use him to ease relations with the Cui family and Cui Lanyin, but they had clearly chosen the wrong person.
Although Tan Shao himself had not known about it, Hong Ji had shown no consideration for him and had left the Tan residence on the spot.
The warm, close relationship they had once shared as maternal cousins had grown distant, but Hong Ji did not feel any regret.
As the Yao family’s son-in-law, Tan Shao could not sever himself from the Yao family completely. Likewise, as the son-in-law of the Cui family’s first branch, he had to put the interests of that branch first at all times.
Tan Shao, however, felt deeply regretful. Once upon a time, the first branch of the Cui family had been like a second home to him. Hong Ji, Cui Su, and Cui Jian had all been friends with whom he could speak freely. Now, however, they were gradually drifting apart.
With the honor of Presented Scholar within reach, Tan Shao was not as happy as he had imagined he would be.
At the hour of the Dragon, the Vice Minister of Rites led the successful candidates forward. When they reached the Gate of Heavenly Manifestation, they stood in formation. As drums and music resounded, the gate slowly opened, and the candidates entered in orderly lines.
Even though he had been here once before, Hong Ji was still awed by the majestic solemnity of the Hall of Heavenly Manifestation.
They passed through the Hall of Heavenly Manifestation and the Hall of Celestial Glory before finally arriving at Jingshen Hall. Before the steps of the imperial terrace, they first paid their respects to the examination officials, including the chief readers, the officials who received the papers, and the clerks.
At a quarter past the hour of the Dragon, the emperor arrived at Jingshen Hall. Everyone then entered the hall and kowtowed. Afterward, Grand Secretary Shen stepped forward to read the imperial edict.
The examination question was: “Discuss the ways of civil and military governance.”
Tables and writing desks had already been arranged inside the hall. Once the edict had been read, the candidates took their seats in order, and the clerks began distributing the examination questions and sheets of paper.
When they received the questions, many of the candidates were bewildered.
Normally, a palace examination question was accompanied by a passage filled with allusions and quotations from the classics. Candidates would usually infer the emperor’s intentions from that passage and establish the tone of their essays accordingly.
But this examination paper contained only a single line—“Discuss the ways of civil and military governance”—and not one word more. How could they possibly know what to write?
From the moment Hong Ji heard the question, his heart had begun to pound.
After discerning that the emperor intended to place greater trust in military commanders and would launch military campaigns against the Tatars, he had wondered whether the palace examination essay might concern civil administration and military achievement. Following that line of thought, he had drafted two essays in preparation.
He had not expected the question today to confirm his suspicions.
Hong Ji silently recited the two essays he had prepared, then reviewed everything the emperor had done since ascending the throne. After making a few additions and deletions, he quickly worked out the general framework of his essay.
After taking several deep breaths, Hong Ji forced himself to calm down. He spread out the paper and began to write.
On the imperial terrace, the emperor sat cross-legged upon the great throne, his eyes closed. No one could tell whether he was meditating or dozing.
The court officials had long since grown accustomed to it and continued with their own duties in an orderly manner.
Because they could not infer the emperor’s intentions from the examination question, quite a few of the candidates secretly stole glances at him on the imperial terrace.
The Great Yong did not have the same rule as the previous dynasty, which held that the emperor’s face must never be viewed. Of course, staring directly at him was still forbidden, but there was no problem with sneaking a glance from the corner of one’s eye.
Most of the candidates had already heard that the emperor enjoyed meditating. Yet seeing him doing so in the flesh still left them shaken. An emperor who sat so lazily, with such poor posture, was utterly at odds with the image of the wise and mighty ruler they had imagined.
With an emperor so unlike any who had come before him, the candidates found it even more difficult to discern his preferences and thoughts.
The sons of scholarly and official families had an easier time. Tan Shao, the Fifth Young Master Yao, and others had already begun writing on their scratch paper.
Although this was called an examination personally administered by the emperor, he would generally sit for half an hour or an hour before leaving, then return when it was time to collect the papers.
This time, however, he did not. The emperor remained seated cross-legged in the same place without moving.
By noon, the emperor had neither eaten nor drunk anything. The officials had to endure their hunger, no matter how desperately their stomachs rumbled, and the candidates who had brought food with them naturally did not dare to take it out.
Everyone else could manage, but Grand Secretary Shen was beginning to struggle.
He walked over to Gufeng, who was standing below the imperial terrace, and whispered, “His Majesty cannot remain hungry like this. Should we ask the empress to make arrangements?”
Gufeng glanced across the hall, his gaze settling on Di Nian. “The palace examination is an event of the utmost importance. What if someone uses this as grounds to impeach Her Majesty for interfering in affairs of state?”
The corner of Grand Secretary Shen’s eye twitched several times. The empress was already reviewing memorials—were they still afraid that someone would accuse her of interfering in politics?
He could not say that outright, however, and instead chose his words carefully. “The court officials all know that Her Majesty is acting according to His Majesty’s instructions.”
Gufeng smiled. “Then I’ll follow Grand Secretary Shen’s arrangements.”
Grand Secretary Shen reminded him, “I’m no longer a Grand Secretary.”
Gufeng shook his head with a grin. “Her Majesty is used to addressing you that way too. Just listen to her, Grand Secretary Shen.”
Without giving Grand Secretary Shen a chance to say anything else, he turned and went around the imperial terrace toward the rear entrance of Jingshen Hall.
Cui Lanyin was waiting there.
That morning, the emperor had said something cryptic: “Have the kitchen at Yan Hua Hall prepare some food. There’s no need to send it over in a hurry. Wait until Gufeng comes to ask for it.”
Knowing that the emperor wanted to use this opportunity to make her name known among the successful candidates, Cui Lanyin had naturally taken the matter seriously.
She had instructed the small kitchen at Yan Hua Hall to prepare filling, delicious pastries that would not crumble. As soon as Gufeng arrived, Buyu summoned the eunuchs, and together they carried the pastries and hot tea to Jingshen Hall.
Once inside, Gufeng first reported to the emperor on the imperial terrace. “Her Majesty saw that Your Majesty had not returned and guessed that the officials and candidates would have to go hungry as well. She could not bear it, so she prepared some food that would be easy to eat. May Your Majesty decide whether it should be served?”
The emperor on the great throne opened his eyes halfway and looked down. “Set it out. Let everyone eat.”
Grand Secretary Shen and Minister Gu stepped forward together. “We thank Her Majesty for her thoughtfulness.”
The officials and candidates followed in unison. “We thank Her Majesty for her thoughtfulness.”
Buyu handed the food to Gufeng, then withdrew from Jingshen Hall with the eunuchs.
Grand Secretary Shen and the others secretly praised the empress’s people for knowing their place. Once they took the pastries distributed to them and tasted them, they discovered that the unassuming treats were exceptionally delicious—far better than the pastries sold at the Yunlai Pastry Shop. The tea was fragrant as well.
This was no mere means of staving off hunger. It was a rare and exquisite meal.
Grand Secretary Shen lifted his chin toward Di Nian and said to Minister Gu, “After accepting food from someone, one cannot easily speak against them. It seems Di Nian will have trouble impeaching the empress from now on.”
The gongshi candidates were astonished to see that the Emperor and all the officials were eating the same pastries and drinking the same tea as everyone else. They had never even heard of such a thing before. An Emperor so down-to-earth, and an Empress who treated the candidates like her own people—this only filled them with even greater hopes for the court.
After the satisfying meal had settled their nerves, inspiration suddenly came to them, and the candidates once again bent over their papers, writing away.
When most of them had completed more than half of their essays, the Emperor, who had been meditating, suddenly rose from his seat and descended from the dais. He walked around below.
If it could be called an inspection, he did not stop even once. Rather, he seemed to be taking a stroll through the hall to aid his digestion.
The gongshi candidates, who had been so tense that their hearts were in their throats, watched him casually pass by, glancing over the examination area as he went. He could not possibly have seen the characters on their papers clearly. Their earlier panic had truly been for nothing.
After making one round, the Emperor left Jingshen Hall.
The court officials, however, did not dare relax their vigilance. They knew that during that brief walk, the Emperor had memorized which candidate had written which essay, as well as their handwriting, names, native places, and everything else, without missing a single detail.
If anything went wrong at any stage, the Emperor would know about it immediately. For a while, everyone was on their guard to an almost absurd degree.
Sure enough, on the eleventh day, when Grand Secretary Shen led the examination graders to Yan Hua Hall to read the papers of the top twelve candidates, the Emperor flicked a finger. Bu Yan stepped forward, and the Emperor said, “His Majesty remembers which paper belongs to whom. Remove the identifying seals.”
Grand Secretary Shen and the others hurriedly began removing the seals. The Emperor raised a hand. “Bring them all here.”
Grand Secretary Shen presented the twelve examination papers. The Emperor merely swept his eyes over them, finishing all twelve in the space of a moment. Even though they had long known that he could read ten lines at a glance and remember everything he saw, witnessing it firsthand still left them shaken.
The Emperor then asked for the list of the second- and third-class candidates. After scanning it once, he selected five names from among them. “Bring me these candidates’ papers.”
Grand Secretary Shen and the others felt their hearts tighten. They realized that the Emperor did not approve of everyone among the original top twelve.
They quickly located the five papers. The Emperor glanced over them and selected two. “Second and third place.”
Then he took out another paper from the original twelve.
“First place.”
When they saw the paper the Emperor had chosen for the top spot, Grand Secretary Shen and the others’ eyes contracted. As expected of the Emperor—he did not avoid the appearance of favoritism in the slightest.
Hong Ji’s policy essay was excellent, but Tan Shao, Yao Jing, and several others had also written very well. Each had focused on a different aspect, yet all of them had presented arguments that were sound and substantial.
Judging by the Emperor’s usual conduct, everyone had expected him to place Hong Ji in the top three. Given Hong Ji’s handsome appearance, he was most likely to be named third place.
No one had expected the Emperor to disregard what the world might say and name Hong Ji the top candidate outright.
As for the two candidates he had chosen for second and third place, one had ranked somewhere in the middle of the second class, while the other had made it into the third class. Both of their essays advocated pursuing civil governance and military strength in tandem. Their arguments were certainly substantial, but their writing was overly plain and unadorned, with somewhat lacking literary grace. In previous examinations, candidates like them would never have ranked so highly.
Yet the Emperor had made one of them second place and the other third.
By now, even the slowest among them understood. The Emperor’s reorganization of the Grand Commander’s Office was only the beginning. He intended to revive military affairs and establish a path in which civil and military achievements carried equal weight.
Grand Secretary Shen glanced at Tan Shao’s paper. It was the essay that several of them had previously agreed deserved first place, yet it had fallen into the second class. Who could have imagined that the Emperor valued bold progress above all else? A doctrine of moderation would not win favor with him.
The emphasis of the imperial examinations would be very different from now on.
Then the Emperor took out Yao Jing’s paper as well.
“Too flowery. Third class.”
Although Yao Jing’s essay was somewhat ornate, it had accurately gauged the imperial intent. There was no reason for it to fall into the third class.
The Emperor’s expression remained impassive, but Grand Secretary Shen and the others were all wondering whether he still remembered the Yao family’s offense against the Empress, or whether he was continuing to keep the Yao family in check.
For the time being, it would be difficult for the Yao family to return to the center of power.
Updates will be coming later than usual for the next few days. Please give me a little time to recover—I’m truly exhausted. [Shy]
