Imperial Academy, Evaluation Hall.
On the morning of the third day, essentially all the examination papers had been graded and ranked, and the preliminary ordering was more or less complete.
However, because some specific rankings had yet to be finalized, everything remained sealed—the true names had not been confirmed.
Among them, for the lyrical composition subject, "An Exhortation to Learning" had been unanimously selected as first place in the jia grade.
Though there were some disputes regarding second place through the last position in the jia grade, these could still be decided through voting.
The crux of the problem lay with the policy essays.
The discussion over the top three was most heated. After the voting, they were practically neck and neck.
They were, respectively:
"The Graduated Tax System"
This proposed implementing a graduated tax while simultaneously imposing heavy taxes on merchants.
The more land one possessed, the more tax one paid.
This cut was extremely ruthless.
However, because this piece was exceptionally well-written, under the Prince of Jin's supervision, these Grand Secretaries had no way to ignore it.
That said, everyone understood in their hearts that even if the court truly implemented this policy, it wouldn't actually deal a devastating blow to the aristocratic families.
Why?
The reasoning was simple—you never truly know how much land certain people possess.
So did this essay have no meaning then?
Not at all.
Because new policies, when first implemented, are absolutely when they strike hardest.
Once this policy came down, the land taxes collected over these few years would certainly be extremely substantial.
Regardless of what happened afterward, it could resolve the immediate crisis.
The second essay:
"Ode to the Great River"
This piece had extremely beautiful prose—a policy essay written like a lyrical composition.
Yet it wasn't entirely style over substance.
The core argument of the essay proposed soliciting donations of money and grain to manage the Great River's flooding, constructing thousands of li of channels and dykes, and transforming the flood-prone areas into tens of thousands of qing of fertile farmland.
What made this different from other essays was that while others attempted to solve the problem through 'reducing expenditure,' it proposed 'increasing revenue.'
No grain? Then develop fertile farmland.
The cost would rely on donations.
The targets for donations would naturally be the aristocratic families and great clans.
In truth, this type of fundraising was quite common.
When ancient emperors needed money for some undertaking, they would generally launch donation drives.
They'd even create merit plaques, carving the donors' names and donation amounts on them.
If certain high-ranking officials donated generously, before retirement they might even be granted honorary positions among the Three Excellencies or Nine Ministers—a glorious retirement.
The graduated tax collected money, and donations also collected money.
The difference lay in that donations were for infrastructure—a method of long-term investment with long-term returns.
Both the graduated tax and the river works required moving against the aristocratic families. One had immediate results, the other took gradual effect.
Though somewhat ruthless, with the nation in such straits, if the aristocratic families made no sacrifices, the Emperor would be enraged.
The final essay was "Strategy for Military Farming."
This was also the most controversial piece.
Of course, "controversial" didn't mean there was shallow debate over whether this essay was good or bad.
All seven Grand Secretaries unanimously agreed it was an excellent essay.
The key issue was what position to elevate it to.
Political considerations came into play here.
"These three essays, whether in depth of thought or degree of innovation, are all superior works," Zhang Zhao, the chief examiner for policy essays, said uncertainly. "First, second, and third place are truly difficult to judge."
"But 'Ode to the Great River' has the finest literary style," Sun Kang said.
"What does literary style matter in a policy essay?" Zhang Zhao retorted.
"When the quality is roughly equal, what should we compare if not literary style?" Sun Kang shot back.
"But policy essays emphasize practicality, so naturally the most pragmatic one is best," Zhang Zhao said.
"'Ode to the Great River' certainly has the best prose, but most remarkable is that the proposed plan is not frivolous at all—it's completely feasible," said Sun Kang. As the chief examiner for lyrical compositions, he naturally favored well-written pieces.
"Then this old scholar asks you," Zhang Zhao said, "can river management fail?"
"...This is an examination policy essay, not a memorial to the court. We're not using the exam paper to govern the nation—why be so harsh!" Sun Kang was getting angry.
But what he said was absolutely correct.
There was no logic in using policy essays to govern the nation.
Examinations tested depth of thought and adaptability.
One could say that not a single essay from the imperial examinations could serve directly as a government decree.
Issuing a decree required deliberation, testing, and promotion, with far too many considerations.
Using a student's policy essay as golden law would be far too frivolous.
As these two argued endlessly, Gu Yixin slowly turned his body to look at the Prince of Jin seated beside him: "We all believe these three essays are excellent. Would Your Highness please determine the top three rankings?"
"..." Confronted with this question, the Prince of Jin immediately tensed up. "Please, Minister Gu, make the decision."
How could I make such a decision? You're the most professional Grand Secretaries here.
"His Majesty ordered Your Highness to supervise the examination. When we cannot reach consensus, naturally Your Highness must decide," Gu Yixin said.
"Is that so?"
The Prince of Jin looked toward the other Grand Secretaries, asking uncertainly.
Thus, everyone responded in unison: "Your Highness, it is so."
After the Prince of Jin confirmed it was indeed his responsibility, he re-examined the three essays.
His brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
He certainly could make a decision and rank them first, second, and third.
But the policy essay results would become the examination results. What if Father Emperor was dissatisfied with the candidate for Si Prefecture's jieyuan? Wouldn't all the blame fall on me?
The more he thought about it, the greater his pressure grew.
Finally, he decided: "This Prince must go seek His Majesty's opinion."
"Entirely at Your Highness's discretion," Gu Yixin said.
Thus, the Prince of Jin stood, taking the three examination papers.
The seven Grand Secretaries rose in unison, their hands folded together, slowly bowing toward the Prince of Jin's retreating back.
After he left, the seven returned to their seats.
"'Ode to the Great River' should be the work of Minister Sun's son," someone said.
Hearing this, Sun Kang hastily spoke: "I'm only judging based on the essay's quality, completely unrelated to who wrote it. And though my surname is Sun, I'm not from the Sun Clan of Yangzhou!"
As his face nearly flushed red with anxiety, Gu Yixin turned his head, his voice low as he reminded: "No one said that."
Sun Kang pressed his lips together and fell silent.
"'Strategy for Military Farming' and 'An Exhortation to Learning' should be by the same person," Zhang Zhao said.
All seven agreed with this.
The handwriting was identical.
In fact, they all knew in their hearts—
The second-place essay in lyrical composition was written by the author of "Ode to the Great River"—Sun Qian, son of one of the Three Excellencies.
Actually, according to social propriety, awarding him the jieyuan directly would be perfectly acceptable.
But this year's situation was somewhat different.
"If the examinee of 'Strategy for Military Farming' places first, then this jieyuan would be..."
"First place in both subjects, jia grade."
………
The Prince of Jin rushed to Xuanyu Hall carrying the three examination papers.
This wasn't the court assembly hall, but the Emperor's sleeping quarters.
His Majesty normally rested here and handled simple administrative matters.
"This son pays respects to Father Emperor."
After the Prince of Jin saw the Emperor reviewing memorials at his imperial desk, he slowly kowtowed.
The Emperor glanced at him, paused in his work, and shot a look at Eunuch Chen.
Eunuch Chen then moved a round stool beside the Prince of Jin, smiling as he said: "Prince of Jin, please sit."
After the Prince of Jin sat, he presented the examination papers to Eunuch Chen and explained: "These are the top three policy essays selected through discussion by the Grand Secretaries, but there is disagreement regarding their ranking. Thus, this son has brought them for Father Emperor to decide."
The Emperor didn't look at him. After taking the three essays into his hands, he silently began reading.
After finishing all three, he set down the papers and looked toward the Prince of Jin, this prince with an honest smile on his face, asking emotionlessly: "What does the Prince of Jin think?"
The Prince of Jin could no longer smile.