Chapter 36: The Essay Finally Passed

Xi Sheng first explained to Li Su the proper way to compose a standard Eight-legged Essay, and then, using Li Su’s own writing, pointed out how he could make improvements. Xi Sheng lectured for quite some time, and Li Su listened intently; occasionally, inspiration struck and he could revise a sentence himself. Though his amendments did not reach Xi Sheng's demanding standard, they at least rose to the level of a competent scholar.

The “competent scholar” to whom Xi Sheng compared him referred to those in the capital, not the local students.

With meticulous care, Xi Sheng guided Li Su through every step of a full essay. Li Su sincerely believed his master to possess the power to turn the mundane into the miraculous. Under his master’s direction, his hopelessly muddled essay was transformed word by word; the main argument remained, but the perspective was elevated, the tone refined, and every character found its perfect place.

The prose flowed as smoothly as a boat downstream. The transition from the introduction was seamless; the regulated antithesis of the Eight-legged Essay was precise and ingenious, the parallel structures perfectly balanced between the real and the abstract, all so natural that there was not a hint of contrivance.

It felt even more masterful than the model essays Li Su had read.

Li Su could not yet write with such skill, but he knew how to admire it.

“We’ll stop here for today. Tomorrow we’ll continue. Use the rest of your time to practice your calligraphy and read,” Xi Sheng said before leaving the study.

Li Su practiced on his own. Even lying in bed that night, he reviewed the key points his master had taught him, and his mind felt as if a veil had been lifted.

...

Li Su informed his second brother that he wouldn’t be returning home for a while, as he would be staying with his master to study. He asked his brother to let the family know, then settled in at Xi Sheng’s residence.

That same day, he wrote another policy essay. Xi Sheng’s brows furrowed, and he immediately began to scold.

Li Su’s expression never changed; he automatically filtered out the scolding, focusing only on the useful critiques.

After more than ten days of constant rebuke, the scolding finally lessened in severity, though it never entirely ceased. Li Su had grown used to it.

Of course, he never doubted himself. Xi Sheng sometimes wondered if his little disciple was simply thick-skinned—never so much as a flinch at being berated.

“No shame at all! Not a single reaction when I scold you.”

Li Su replied calmly, “Master, any problem discovered before the exam is a blessing.”

Xi Sheng was momentarily speechless—it was a reasonable point.

“What you have aren’t mere problems, but wounds everywhere, leaking from all sides.”

Li Su’s master had a penchant for exaggeration when criticizing him, but fortunately, Li Su had a strong heart; otherwise, he might have been crushed by such comments.

During this period devoted to policy essays and calligraphy, Li Su did not neglect his other studies. He had already memorized all the required texts for the examinations and understood the meaning of every line.

This brought him up to the standard of most scholars.

After all, for the two sections—“Text Patching” and “Classical Interpretation”—Li Su believed no one should lose points.

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“Text Patching” was similar to a fill-in-the-blank exercise: a piece of paper would cover certain words or sentences in a classic text, and the candidate had to supply what was missing.

“Classical Interpretation” required candidates to explain given passages from the classics, akin to translation.

But Li Su was too optimistic; many scholars would still lose points on these sections.

At this time, the imperial examination tested text patching, classical interpretation, arithmetic, policy essays, and poetry. The policy essay was most valued, followed by poetry; the rest counted for less.

Thus, Li Su focused so intently on the policy essay—if he wanted to take first place, his essay had to be excellent.

Besides memorizing the exam content, he also studied the piles of books his master provided, immersing himself in a sea of texts day and night.

Even in his dreams, he was chased by classical prose.

...

The emperor, too, had received the curved plough. The one sent by Xi Sheng had arrived some time ago, but this time it was presented officially by the county magistrate.

After reading the memorial, the emperor sneered, “So, he wants to take credit for this.”

The magistrate’s memorial claimed he had inadvertently discovered a new plough, more efficient and convenient than existing models, had already trialed it in his jurisdiction, and was now presenting it to the emperor in hopes it would be promoted more widely.

Eunuch Wang thought the magistrate was truly unlucky—if the chief minister hadn’t sent the plough earlier, perhaps His Majesty would have promoted the man for the sake of the invention. But now, he shouldn’t even hope. If the emperor wished to pursue the matter, it could be construed as deceiving the sovereign.

Of course, if His Majesty chose not to make an issue of it, nothing would come of it.

Eunuch Wang quickly asked, “Your Majesty, should we announce the creator of the plough to the public?”

The emperor’s eyes glinted. “If he passes the county-level exam and becomes a licentiate, make it public and grant him a reward. If he fails, promote the plough, but do not announce its origin.”

Eunuch Wang bowed, “Yes.” That Li Su had already left a mark with His Majesty while still just a pupil—if he continued to succeed, his future would be extraordinary.

But it was still early to say; he had not even passed the county-level exam.

Eunuch Wang understood His Majesty’s intention: if Li Su passed, they would announce his name, promoting the value of scholarship and encouraging more common folk to invest in education, raising the people’s knowledge and allowing more poor but talented youths to emerge. After all, the old aristocratic families had become too arrogant.

“What about the county magistrate?” Eunuch Wang asked.

“For now, do nothing,” replied the emperor, his decision made. The magistrate’s fate would depend on Li Su’s future.

...

Two months passed.

Li Su presented his latest policy essay to his master.

This time, Xi Sheng did not immediately launch into a tirade.

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Xi Sheng was somewhat satisfied. In just two months, such improvement was truly remarkable talent.

His young disciple’s gifts were astonishing; those scholars who would be sitting the exams with him would likely not be so pleased. Xi Sheng had high hopes for his little apprentice.

“Tomorrow, you may return home to see your family,” Xi Sheng told Li Su.

Li Su’s eyes lit up. At last, he had barely met the standard. Writing now came much more smoothly to him, though there was still much room to improve.

From here on, progress would not be so rapid.

“All right! Thank you, Master!” Li Su’s face showed a hint of excitement. He had not seen his family in two months and missed them dearly.

Seeing his excitement, Xi Sheng teased, “I thought nothing could ruffle you.”

No matter how harshly he was scolded, he never reacted, leaving Xi Sheng feeling quite unsatisfied with his own efforts.

Li Su grinned at Xi Sheng. “Master, could I borrow your carriage? I want to buy some things to take home.”

Xi Sheng replied impatiently, “You really are a troublesome one. Find Uncle Lin tomorrow; he’ll arrange it.”

Inwardly, Xi Sheng felt a pang of envy. Going home meant bringing gifts, but in all the time Li Su had stayed with him, he hadn’t received so much as a token, not even a strand of hair—only constant aggravation.

Of course, he scolded Li Su every day, but it was for the sake of his progress, wasn’t it?

The next day, Li Su formally asked for leave from his teacher. It had been over three months since he arrived in this world; it was now mid-June, and next February or March, he would sit for the examination.

His goal was to take first place. He still needed to work hard. He had heard that ancient scholars were extremely diligent, so he could not afford to relax just because of a little progress.

But tomorrow, he would allow himself a day off.

One day’s rest would not do any harm.

Li Su calculated carefully: during his time with his master, he actually had more silver left than before. He ate his master’s food, lived in his master’s house, used his master’s brushes, ink, paper, and inkstones, and constantly provoked his master with his essays, earning endless scolding.

Li Su thought, perhaps he was being a bit shameless...

This time, he would bring his master some mountain delicacies and cook him a hot pot. The weather was getting hot, and old people suffered most from the heat. He would even prepare some ice to have with the hot pot—a rare treat.

Li Su nodded to himself, quite pleased with this idea.

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