Volume One: From Farmer to Gentleman Chapter 35: The Secret Behind the Failed Exam

The guarantor was required to loudly announce the names of the five candidates he was vouching for. This was, in effect, another means for the scholar to confirm the candidates’ identities and prevent any possibility of impersonation during the examination. Although acting as a guarantor could be profitable, the scholar had to exercise great caution; if a candidate were caught cheating, he too would be implicated, and his own scholarly status could be revoked. As a recipient of the imperial stipend, it would be a grave injustice for a distinguished scholar to lose his hard-earned honors over a minor profit. Thus, the scholars treated the guarantor’s announcement with utmost seriousness, and if any doubt arose regarding a candidate’s identity, they would expose it on the spot. The candidate would be disqualified, while the scholar would remain unaffected.

Once the announcements concluded, the assignment of examination booths began. Candidates whose names were called would proceed to draw lots and then find their designated booths accordingly. The examination hall consisted of rows upon rows of small, single-occupancy booths, all facing the same direction, so that no one could see those to their front, back, or sides. This arrangement effectively prevented candidates from signaling to each other or cheating. In short, the imperial examination was guarded on all fronts, leaving no room for dishonesty.

On the sixth day, Chuliu entered his assigned booth. Noting that the chamber pot was relatively clean, he moved it behind the door. He then inspected the desk, which appeared smooth enough. Testing its stability—just as his master had predicted—it wobbled with every touch and was indeed unsteady. Chuliu tried to set it right, but no matter how he shifted it, it would not sit flat. Realizing the unevenness was due to the floor, he found a piece of brick within the booth and propped up one of the legs. The desk was now stable.

The county examination consisted of four sessions, the first being the main test. Soon, the examiner brought in the papers. Upon receiving his, Chuliu saw that the first question was a passage completion from the classics—an exercise drawn from the Four Books and Five Classics, requiring candidates to fill in missing sections. In essence, it was a fill-in-the-blank, but one where the blanks could span dozens, even over a hundred characters, akin to dictation exercises. As long as one had memorized the core texts of the examination syllabus thoroughly, these questions were easy marks, but how many could truly recite the Four Books and Five Classics flawlessly? Chuliu was one such rare individual. Without wasting any scrap paper, he began writing directly on the answer sheet. For someone with his memory, such questions posed no obstacle; his brush moved confidently, without a pause.

The second question was a regulated verse: "Springtime Fields, Picturesque as a Painting," in seven-character lines, with strict rules for tonal pattern and rhyme. Regulated verse placed more emphasis on form than on literary flair; as long as the rhyme and meter were correct, there would be little trouble. Of course, those who wrote with brilliance would earn higher marks.

Another point: the theme of the regulated verse was to extol and praise the emperor. The more flattering the poem, the better the score.

Chuliu glanced at the third question—a Four Books essay: "Feng Fu Rolled Up His Sleeves and Stepped Forward Among the People." There was a pitfall here. This passage from the Mencius was obscure; inattentive candidates might mistake Feng Fu for a woman, and phrases like "a heroine as valiant as any man" would inevitably appear in such essays. In truth, Feng Fu was a robust man, renowned for his courage and skill in fighting tigers. The passage described him rolling up his sleeves, stepping forward from the crowd, preparing to confront a tiger. The angle from which one approached this essay was crucial. One could write about returning to an old profession, the tension between change and persistence, and so forth, but such conventional arguments would never earn high marks.

Chuliu pondered for a long while. He decided to expand upon Mencius' perspective, exploring how, in personal growth and social progress, one might avoid the pitfalls exemplified by Feng Fu, and how to make wise decisions and take appropriate actions amid changing circumstances. His essay rose above the simple dichotomies of courage and cowardice, success and failure, transforming instead into a philosophical meditation on adaptability and transformation, perseverance and letting go. Thus, the piece gained new vitality. It became not merely the story of one man, but a mirror reflecting humanity’s shared spiritual pursuits and the journey of growth.

And at the end, he must flatter the emperor. In the conclusion, he deftly linked the emperor’s qualities or actions to the story of Feng Fu, praising him for his extraordinary wisdom and insight, likening him to Mencius in his ability to draw lessons from stories, wisely steering the nation and its people, avoiding the errors of Feng Fu, and always maintaining correct direction and decision, thus ensuring the country’s prosperity and the people's well-being.

With his ideas in order, it was nearly noon. Chuliu took out some flatbread, drank the plain water provided at the exam, and made a quick meal of it.

...

Su Laibao, Doumiao, and Wen Lancang had arrived early outside the examination hall, waiting for the test to end. As candidates were permitted to submit their papers early, it was possible that Chuliu and Su Biao might finish ahead of time, so their companions gathered in advance. The three chatted idly, carefully avoiding any mention of the exam.

Glancing about, Wen Lancang happened to notice a woman watching him from a distance. When he looked back, he was stunned. That familiar yet distant figure was none other than his former wife, Madam He. A surge of complicated emotions flooded Wen Lancang's heart. After a moment, a realization struck him—could Madam He be waiting for her son, Wen Shao, who might also be sitting for the county examination?

He longed to go over and ask immediately but feared disturbing the peace she now enjoyed in her life. As he hesitated, a maid approached, quietly saying, "Master Wen, my lady wishes to see you."

As if guided by fate, Wen Lancang followed her. Faced with his former wife, he was at a loss for words, struck silent. Madam He felt a pang of guilt, but seeing that Wen Lancang did not appear destitute, her heart eased somewhat.

"What, do you expect a woman like me to speak first?" she teased, but even her jest could not break Wen Lancang's silence. To dispel the awkwardness, she forced herself to make conversation. "Who have you come to send off to the exam?"

"I have taken on two disciples—they are sitting the examination..." he replied quietly, and once again, silence fell between them.

Wen Lancang yearned to know about his son’s well-being, but could not bring himself to ask. Yet emotion overcame restraint, and at last he broke the silence. "Is Shao'er well?"

"Well enough," she sighed, her expression complex. "He lacks for nothing, his stepfather treats him kindly and allows him to study... Oh, and he is here today to take the examination."

In the past, Madam He had indeed felt bitter disappointment, having struggled through hardship in the Wen family only to be left impoverished in the end. With meals uncertain and life unsustainable, she had seen no way forward. But now, she had learned a secret that filled her with deep indignation on Wen Lancang’s behalf. She debated whether or not to reveal it to him.

At that moment, Wen Lancang asked, "How are Wen Shao’s studies these days?"

Hearing this, Madam He’s gaze grew complicated. She sighed softly, "He is doing reasonably well, neither outstanding nor lacking... Oh, he is now called Zhao Shao... I had no choice, having remarried, and societal pressures forced the change. I hope you will not blame me..."

"I..." Wen Lancang wanted to say something, but the words "I do not blame you" caught in his throat and would not come.

Alas—two people from different worlds now, why linger on regrets?

Suddenly enlightened, Wen Lancang simply thanked her and turned to leave.

"Wait!" Madam He caught up to him and whispered, "Let me tell you a secret..."

"Go on," Wen Lancang replied calmly.

"In the year you failed to pass the scholar’s examination, it was not for lack of talent. Someone intervened behind the scenes and deliberately prevented you from succeeding..."