In the meeting room of the Imperial Academy, seven old men reclined in grand armchairs—three on the left, three on the right, with Chief Grand Secretary Gu Yixin seated in the center at the head position, holding a small ceramic cup in his hand.
"With 'books' as the topic, most examinees will likely write about the sages' books."
"That would show they haven't truly absorbed the sages' teachings at all," someone said. "Though the sages said that human life has limits while the sea of books is boundless, they also said that reading ten thousand volumes without understanding a single matter is a scholar's shame."
"Reading is for governing the world. Empty talk about the sages' books, no matter how eloquent, falls to the lower tier."
"No matter how brilliant the literary style, it cannot be rated as jia grade."
"Taking 'books' as the topic," Gu Yixin pronounced at this moment, "is in essence taking 'learning' as the topic."
Everyone nodded in agreement.
To prevent exam questions from leaking, they were generally decided only shortly before the examination.
So what they were discussing now was the scoring mechanism.
Though these men were considered guardians of Sacred Learning, the life experience and knowledge they had accumulated undoubtedly placed them at the pinnacle of wisdom in feudal society.
It would be completely wrong to think these people only licked the emperor's boots and created academic barriers for themselves.
Even with eight-legged essay exam questions, standing out required extremely deep philosophical insight.
Moreover, thinking that pandering to the examiners and fawning over the sages' books would guarantee success—did they not consider the sheer number of examinees?
Not everyone was qualified to be a bootlicker.
The tone they had set was this: for the lyrical composition topic, if one didn't extend beyond the surface and just fixated on the literal meaning of "books" when writing, they were basically screwed.
Not that they'd fail outright, but hoping to pass based on the lyrical composition alone? Forget it.
For this question, if you didn't extend the meaning, yi grade was the ceiling.
"But the most important thing is still this afternoon's policy essay."
At this moment, an elderly man spoke up.
"Whether one can achieve sub-yuan ranking depends entirely on the quality of the policy essay."
Generally speaking, the two subjects were nominally weighted fifty-fifty.
But in reality, the policy essay was always more important.
And saying "achieving sub-yuan depends entirely on the policy essay" meant that the lyrical composition had become an afterthought—this year's selection criteria had undergone a major shift toward practicality.
Usually when a country's situation wasn't good, beset by internal troubles and external threats with a relatively dire situation, romance would become a cheap substitute.
Could writing poetry really intimidate a million-strong army into retreat?
The current court faced exactly this kind of situation.
"I thought His Majesty would approve the exam question about the northern border conflict," someone sighed.
"And yet he brought this question to the forefront instead..."
"Those who excel in policy essays become officials to resolve the sovereign's concerns. Since this is a real issue, should we avoid discussing it?" Gu Yixin cut off the slightly "complaining" tone in the remarks below, his expression grave.
Though he didn't say it directly, all the Grand Secretaries understood in their hearts.
Those who excel in policy essays become officials.
But that didn't mean that in this afternoon's examination, writing well would guarantee results.
Not only must the emperor be satisfied.
We must also be satisfied.
Or rather—
Our satisfaction is what matters most.
---
"Ce'er, remember this one thing: for the policy essay subject, what you need to figure out is the deep intentions of those seven gentlemen at the Imperial Academy."
The night before the exam, Father had specifically emphasized this to him.
And told him to keep it firmly in mind.
This morning before leaving, Father had reminded him once more.
Actually, Song Ce felt somewhat conflicted about this statement.
He wasn't someone who read books mechanically—he naturally understood worldly affairs and human nature.
But the current emperor had established the civil examination system, bypassing the ancient practice of "aristocratic families passing down positions generation to generation" to select talent, while simultaneously setting up the Jinyiwei for high-pressure control. He could be called the emperor with the most concentrated power in several generations of the Great Yu.
Why did Father only tell him to figure out the deep intentions of the seven Imperial Academy gentlemen, rather than the emperor's intentions?
Could those seven Imperial Academy gentlemen really decide everything?
But Father couldn't be wrong.
He had to listen to him.
However, Song Ce's mood right now was still quite good.
Because in this morning's lyrical composition exam, he felt he'd performed well.
Books.
One must read the sages' books.
But the sages' books were also the paths the sages had walked.
Scholars reading the sages' books must also travel ten thousand li. Then, turn it into their own book.
After clarifying this core concept, he had written a lyrical composition with brilliant literary talent.
Next came the more important policy essay.
Dong—a deep, resonant sound as the examination compound's bell was struck.
The policy essay examination had begun.
After the chief examiner received the test question, he read aloud: "Last year in Yi Prefecture there was a locust plague. The common people faced famine, refugees arose everywhere, even the garrison troops had no provisions. It took the nation's full strength to restore order. Our dynasty has had no major wars for several years, yet the state treasury has no surplus grain. Using this as your topic, compose a policy essay."
A problem concerning national food security, huh.
Song Shi'an had little practice with this kind of question, because civil service application essays wouldn't involve such issues.
In peacetime, grain storage security problems didn't exist.
But this was ancient times—encountering such situations was all too common.
This question was indeed the most profound one in recent provincial examinations.
After transcribing the prompt, Song Shi'an prepared to outline his arguments on the draft paper, but the moment his brush touched down, his expression froze and he set the brush back on the inkstone.
Fuck!
Isn't this way too sensitive?
Only now did he realize.
The court having no grain—wasn't that entirely his own family's doing?
The aristocratic families controlled the vast majority of the nation's farmland.
And the aristocratic families in the provinces had also concealed vast numbers of people, using affiliation schemes to evade and defraud taxes.
Ordinary commoner households paid seventy percent in taxes.
But collecting even ten percent from aristocratic families would be doing well.
Having Song Shi'an write this kind of policy essay—wasn't that making him rebel against his own father?
You had to know that those several gentlemen at the Imperial Academy were basically all clan heads of great aristocratic families.
Even though there was one little old man named Zhang Zhao who had come up through the examination system as a commoner, after taking office, he'd acquired more farmland than anyone.
So what did setting this question mean?
Could it be they thought that aside from them, there were other solutions to the state treasury having no stored grain?
Raise the common people's taxes a bit more, to ninety percent?
Even I wouldn't dare do that in a game!
Have the aristocratic families provide money and take responsibility for maintaining local military forces?
Then the armies would become private troops.
The end of the Eastern Han leading into the Three Kingdoms period!
Expand the area of imperial farmland to directly support the court.
That wouldn't solve the core problem.
When encountering unexpected incidents, it would be a drop in the bucket—the risk resistance capability would be too poor.
Thinking it over, Song Shi'an wrote a line of characters on the draft paper—gentry and officials paying taxes together as one.
But the next moment, he crossed it out with a black line, taking back that statement.
Too sensitive.
Pulling something like that, one head wouldn't be enough to chop off.
So the direction for the policy essay was just to solve the problem of redundant officials, a massive layoff?
Thinking to this point, he frowned slightly and raised his head.
He noticed that some examinees across from him had already begun writing their essays.
Another portion were scratching their heads and pulling their ears, in great pain.
Those in pain were the ones getting it right.
Those who could write immediately upon seeing the question hadn't understood the question at all.
Did policy essay exams necessarily have an optimal solution?
Perhaps your solution method was the most effective.
But sometimes the answer needed to conform to the national situation.
Of course, even if you didn't follow the national trend, you absolutely couldn't completely oppose the general trend.
Thinking and thinking, Song Shi'an finally understood, and suddenly it became clear!
This question tested one's ability to figure out the psychology of the graders.
But the graders' hearts couldn't beat freely according to their own will either.
Those several Grand Secretaries at the Imperial Academy also had their struggles, their stubbornness.
Then the line of thinking became very clear.
The plan you proposed couldn't be weak and powerless, avoiding the core problem.
But you also couldn't focus entirely on solving the problem, striking at the root.
The country has no grain, the aristocratic families must make concessions.
And the balancing point lay in: how much should they concede?