Volume One: A Farmer at Dawn Chapter 59: Water and Fire
On the first day, Chu Liu covered his nose and moved the night soil bucket to the corner, then went to adjust the height of the two wooden boards.
Fa Juan’s classmate Jing Sheng entered the room, caught a whiff of the stench, and immediately frowned in disgust.
He glanced at Chu Liu with a sympathetic expression, set down his exam papers, and hurried out.
The county examination consisted of two sessions, the first being the main exam.
From the county examination onward, poetry and verse were seldom tested; the imperial examinations now focused on essay composition.
The purpose of the imperial examinations was to select talented individuals for governance. They emphasized a profound understanding of Confucian classics, unique insights into statecraft, and strict logic and structure in writing.
While poetry showcased talent, its value in governing a country was limited.
The first question was a composition topic—just two words: “Water and Fire.”
What could this mean?
References to water and fire were plentiful in the Four Books and Five Classics; examinees had to search through them, trying to guess the intended meaning.
It was a truly vexing topic.
Chu Liu, however, remained calm.
He recalled that during their reviews, Wen Lancang had mentioned this very topic; the four of them had debated it and ultimately traced it to the “Counsel of Great Yu” in the Book of Documents.
The main idea, naturally, was the importance of agriculture—a reminder to the emperor to prioritize farming.
Chu Liu took a deep breath, and the foul odor immediately stung his nostrils.
“It doesn’t smell, it doesn’t smell, not at all…” he repeated several times. Soon, even the stench in the examination cell seemed less overwhelming.
It seemed that sometimes, mind over matter did have its uses.
Chu Liu pushed the matter from his mind and focused on answering the questions.
He quickly outlined his essay, drafted it on scratch paper, revised it repeatedly until he could find no flaws, and then transcribed it onto the answer sheet.
He had already looked at the second question—it was a mathematics problem.
“There are pigs, sheep, and dogs, each worth a certain amount of silver. One pig, two sheep, and three dogs together are worth one hundred taels; two pigs, one sheep, and two dogs are worth eighty taels; three pigs, three sheep, and one dog are worth ninety taels. What is the value in silver of each animal?”
In his previous life, this would have been a straightforward system of three equations with three unknowns. Chu Liu quickly wrote out the equations and solved them.
For mathematics questions, only the final answer was required.
He picked up his brush and wrote: The pig is worth twelve and a half taels, the sheep ten taels, and the dog twenty-two and a half taels.
Shortly after noon, Chu Liu finished his paper.
He checked his answers carefully, then rang the bell to submit his work.
If there were mistakes, there was no way to correct them. Lingering would only mean breathing in the stench; it was better to step outside for some fresh air and chat with Yuexi.
Leaving the examination hall, Chu Liu found himself the first to submit his paper.
“Young man, out so early—were the questions easy?” Several parents waiting outside immediately gathered around. Not wanting to chat, Chu Liu sighed deliberately, “They were too difficult. I couldn’t finish, so I handed in my paper early.”
“A child this young shouldn’t be put through such an ordeal.”
“The county exam is much tougher than the prefectural one. You’re still young—there will be plenty more chances.”
Amid the murmurs, Chu Liu made his way to his father.
“Chu Liu, why are you out so quickly?” Dou Miao and Su Laibao were both surprised and came over to ask.
“Don’t mention it. The night soil bucket hadn’t been cleaned—the smell was unbearable…” Chu Liu gave them a brief explanation, then looked around. “Father, where’s Yuexi and the others?”
“They left once you went in.”
Not seeing Yuexi left Chu Liu a little disappointed.
Dou Miao cursed the person responsible for cleaning the bucket, then asked cautiously, “Chu Liu, did you manage to answer the questions?”
“I did; this round shouldn’t be a problem,” he replied, adding, “Su Biao and Master should be fine too. We discussed the topic together…”
He didn’t mention the mathematics question.
Like him, Su Biao hadn’t chosen the math specialty, and he wasn’t sure if their master understood mathematics.
Su Laibao was instantly relieved.
Food vendors waited just outside the examination hall. Dou Miao bought two buns, and Chu Liu, hungry by now, felt renewed after eating.
About half an hour later, examinees began to file out.
Before long, Wen Lancang and Su Biao also appeared.
As soon as he saw Chu Liu, Wen Lancang asked, “Shuxian, what was the answer to the mathematics question?”
“The pig twelve and a half taels, the sheep ten taels, the dog twenty-two and a half taels.”
“Exactly!” Wen Lancang and Su Biao were delighted.
“Who would have thought they’d give us a math question this year? I nearly couldn’t solve it,” Wen Lancang said with relief. “Thank goodness for Shuxian—otherwise, I would have been at a loss. I bet quite a few students from our county school couldn’t answer it.”
Chu Liu was puzzled—what did this have to do with him?
A moment later, as Wen Lancang explained, he finally understood.
He had made a bet with Li Shuo to specialize in mathematics and win first place.
Afterward, he had substituted numbers to verify the solution, a method everyone then adopted.
That’s how Wen Lancang and Su Biao solved the application problem.
Back then, to spare Master Wu embarrassment, Chu Liu had deliberately explained it that way.
Who knew that an offhand remark would become a widely used technique among the county candidates?
How ironic.
It had become the secret method for county scholars to solve the question.
What could one say to that?
“Master, Shuxian, Su Biao.” Zhao Shao emerged from the examination hall, bypassed his mother, and went straight to Wen Lancang and the others.
“How did you do, Zhao Shao?” Wen Lancang asked.
“Not too bad,” Zhao Shao replied modestly, but his eyes betrayed his satisfaction.
He knew well enough that the four of them had done well, but he neither spoke of it nor asked further.
“Master, my mother is calling me.”
“Go on.”
Zhao Shao waved and ran to Madam He.
Just then, Li Shuo came out, exclaiming in excitement, “Who would have thought there’d be a math question? That’s free points for me! Hahaha…”
He strutted over to Chu Liu and the others. Seeing Wen Lancang, he quickly composed himself and greeted him respectfully.
“Li Shuo, I’m sure you got the second question right, but how did you answer the first?” Wen Lancang asked.
“Water and fire are the creations of heaven and earth, the signs of yin and yang. Water belongs to yin, gentle and nourishing, nurturing all things without contention. Fire belongs to yang, fierce and blazing, illuminating the four corners with authority…”
Li Shuo was quite pleased with his essay, though in truth he had missed the point.
Wen Lancang did not correct him, only nodded and said, “Very good—smooth prose and balanced structure.”
At that moment, an elderly figure appeared at the examination hall gates—a white-haired, stooped old scholar, trembling as he walked out.
He was the last examinee to leave that day.
His eyes were vacant, his spirit crushed.
He staggered aimlessly.
“Father, let me help you!”
A burly man in his thirties hurried over to support him.
The old man suddenly pushed him away, shouting, “I couldn’t solve the mathematics question, nor the water and fire topic! I wanted to take the exam one last time, but who knew it would end in such misery? Heaven, how could you be so cruel…”
Before he could finish, blood spurted from his mouth. Like a withered leaf in late autumn, he collapsed to the ground.
“Father…”
The burly man caught his father, knelt beside him, tears streaming down his face.
Born for the examinations, dying for the examinations.
And just like that, his father was gone.