“Is that Shi Huai—the one who placed second in the metropolitan examination?”
“I heard he’s only thirteen. He’s ridiculously handsome!”
“What good is being handsome? The palace examination tests talent, not looks.”
The speaker’s voice was loud enough that several people nearby turned to glance at him, their eyes conveying the same thought: Are you going to die if you don’t act so sour?
Shi Huai paid no attention to the muttering.
The runners checked each candidate’s identity documents and only let them through after confirming that everything was in order.
The square in front of the Hall of Supreme Harmony was filled with desks and chairs, arranged in neat rows and columns like squares on a chessboard.
A slip of paper bearing each candidate’s name and place of origin had been affixed to every desk.
Shi Huai found his seat and sat down. He placed his examination basket beside the desk, then took out his brush, ink, paper, and inkstone one by one and arranged them neatly.
He raised his head and looked at the candidates around him.
To his left sat a middle-aged man in his thirties. His face was dark and weathered, and his hands were covered in thick calluses. At a glance, one could tell he came from a poor family.
To his right sat a young man in his early twenties. He wore a long silk robe and had a jade pendant hanging from his waist. He was clearly the son of a prestigious family.
The young man noticed Shi Huai’s gaze, turned toward him, and smiled, revealing two neat rows of white teeth.
“Brother, are you Shi Huai?”
Shi Huai nodded.
The young man leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“My name is Shen Yizhi. I’m from Wen’an Academy. I’ve long admired you, Brother Shi.”
Shi Huai’s brow moved slightly when he heard the words “Wen’an Academy.”
“Wen’an Academy? Then do you know Lu Zhiyuan?”
Shen Yizhi’s smile stiffened for an instant before he quickly resumed his overly familiar manner.
“I know him. We were classmates for five years. That fellow is a complete freak.”
He leaned even closer and lowered his voice further.
“Don’t let his excellent essays fool you. He may look perfectly normal, but his temper is awful. He doesn’t pay attention to anyone at the academy and walks around with a stern face all day.”
Shen Yizhi was about to say more when an examiner passing by shot him a glare. He immediately shrank back, lowered his head, and pretended to grind his ink.
When the bell announcing the beginning of the examination rang, the entire square fell silent.
A chief examiner dressed in a bright red official robe stood on the steps before the Hall of Supreme Harmony. He unfolded the imperial edict in his hands and began reading out the examination rules.
His voice echoed across the open square, every word ringing clear.
After listening, Shi Huai went over the contents of the edict in his mind, making sure he had not missed a single rule.
When the examination papers were distributed, Shi Huai’s gaze fell upon the questions.
The first was an essay on statecraft. Its title was “On Why It Is Difficult to Be a Ruler.”
Shi Huai stared at the question for several breaths. The structure of his essay had already begun to take shape in his mind.
He did not rush to put brush to paper. First, he read through the entire examination paper from beginning to end, making certain that he had not overlooked any question.
Then he closed his eyes and reviewed the outline of his essay in his mind.
From the opening and development of the argument to the introduction, elaboration, and conclusion, every section was perfectly clear.
When he opened his eyes, he picked up his brush and dipped it into the inkstone. The tip of the brush paused briefly above the paper before he began to write.
“I have heard that the difficulty of being a ruler lies not in attending diligently to government, nor in accepting remonstrance, nor in governing one’s subordinates, but in knowing oneself. He who knows himself possesses clarity. If one cannot understand oneself yet wishes to understand others, it is impossible.”
Shi Huai wrote with ease, the tension leaving his brow.
When he reached the phrase “the difficulty of knowing oneself,” he cited Emperor Taizong’s famous words: “Use bronze as a mirror to correct your attire, history as a mirror to understand the rise and fall of dynasties, and people as a mirror to recognize your own gains and losses.”
He then connected the passage to the current emperor’s repeated edicts calling for remonstrance. He quoted the classics and praised the emperor with such subtlety that the flattery was almost impossible to detect.
The second question concerned the interpretation of the classics. It quoted a line from the Book of Documents: “The people are the foundation of the state. When the foundation is firm, the state is peaceful.”
The moment Shi Huai saw the question, the structure of his essay began forming in his mind.
Without hesitation, he raised his brush and wrote.
“The people are the foundation of the state. When the foundation is firm, the state is secure; when the foundation is shaken, the state is imperiled. This is an unchanging truth throughout the ages. Therefore, those who would govern a country well must first ensure the people’s well-being.”
“The way to secure the people’s well-being is to reduce punishments, lighten taxes, exercise caution in the use of military force, and ensure that the people possess stable means of livelihood. Only then will they have peace of mind.”
His brush paused.
He thought of the fallen Marquis’s residence.
He thought of the tenant farmers crushed beneath the burden of heavy taxes, scarcely able to breathe.
He thought of the woodshed in the side courtyard, where even the torn paper covering the window had gone unrepaired.
He continued writing:
“Today, there are people who possess land yet cannot till it, people who possess homes yet cannot live in them, and people who have parents, wives, and children yet cannot provide for them.”
“Taxes are imposed with the urgency of falling stars, while local officials are as fierce as tigers and wolves. When the people no longer fear death, how can death be used to frighten them?”
This passage was sharp enough to draw blood. It condemned the court’s taxation policies and the corruption of local officials in devastating terms.
But Shi Huai quickly reined in his brushwork and turned instead to proposing solutions.
“In my opinion, if we wish to secure the people’s well-being, we must first conduct a thorough survey of all farmland so that the powerful can no longer conceal their holdings. If we wish to survey the land, we must first reform the administration so that officials have no opportunity for embezzlement. And if we wish to reform the administration, we must first rectify the ruler’s heart so that the court itself may be held in awe.”
After writing the final sentence, he read through the essay from beginning to end. Only after confirming that he had violated none of the forbidden conventions did he put down his brush.
Inside the Hall of Supreme Harmony, the emperor sat upon the dragon throne with a list in his hand, his gaze moving slowly from one name to the next.
He had originally been so busy that he could barely keep up.
The Grand Secretariat had sent him a pile of memorials awaiting approval. The Ministry of Revenue wanted silver, the Ministry of War wanted men, and the Ministry of Works needed funds to repair the river embankments. Every matter was urgent, and every department was pressing him for an answer.
Yet he had still come.
“Your Majesty, all the candidates have arrived. Shall we go over now?”
The chief eunuch, Fu Quan, entered with his back bent and his voice low.
The emperor rose, straightened his imperial robes, and strode out of the Hall of Supreme Harmony toward the examination square. A large group of civil and military officials followed behind him.
At the very front walked the Grand Secretary, an old man with a white beard. He trembled with every step, and his assistants stood ready to reach out and support him at any moment.
Behind him came several grand secretaries, followed by the ministers and vice ministers of the Six Ministries. Each wore an immaculate official robe, his expression solemn and his footsteps steady.
Most of them did not actually want to come. They would have to stand in the wind on the square for half a day.
But the emperor was coming, so they had no choice.
As they passed through the corridor, the emperor suddenly stopped and glanced back at the officials behind him.
“I heard that there is a thirteen-year-old candidate who placed second in this year’s metropolitan examination?”
The Grand Secretary froze for a moment before hurriedly stepping forward.
“Your Majesty, there is indeed such a candidate. He is the young heir of the Marquis of Yongning. His name is Shi Huai, and his essay is truly excellent.”
The emperor nodded without asking anything further, then turned and continued walking.
On the square, the candidates were all bent over their papers, absorbed in their answers. No one noticed the commotion coming from the side entrance of the Hall of Supreme Harmony.
Shi Huai was working on the third question when he heard a rustling sound behind him.
It sounded as though many people were walking at once, their clothing brushing together with a faint, whispering swish.
He did not turn around. He simply continued writing.
When the emperor reached the edge of the square, his steps suddenly halted.
The officials following behind him stopped as well.
Every gaze turned in the direction of the emperor’s eyes.
The square before the Hall of Supreme Harmony was packed with tables and chairs. Hundreds of candidates sat with their heads bowed, writing furiously. As far as the eye could see, the crowd was a sea of dark heads.
Yet the emperor’s gaze passed over them all and came to rest on a single person—
as if drawn there by some unseen force.
