Chapter 135: The Special Imperial Examination

The death of Old Master Liu sent shockwaves through the academy, though they were fleeting and superficial. After the initial stir and uproar, within ten days, calmness settled once more.

The man was gone, but life had to go on.

Before the ruthless and powerful Black-Clad Guards, all resistance seemed feeble and futile. The brutal truth once again confirmed the saying, "A scholar is good for nothing." As for those officials who also came from scholarly backgrounds, the problem was that once they assumed office, they were no longer mere scholars or ordinary men of letters.

The term "scholar" itself was broad, encompassing many factions with differing interests.

People preferred not to dwell too long on bloody incidents, so before long, no one in the academy spoke of Old Master Liu's fate, and the place gradually reverted to its usual stagnant state.

Chen Jianchen’s conduct remained much the same as before, only now he studied prose and arts more diligently and was able to produce a proper, formulaic essay.

Ironically, he alone understood clearly that in this age, the title of "xiucai" (a successful candidate in the imperial examination’s first level) was no longer a reliable shield. It had become an invisible shackle, attracting closer scrutiny. Progress was like rowing against the current; if one did not advance, one would fall behind. Only by rising further—by succeeding in the imperial examination’s higher ranks—could one hope to leap into a broader world.

Officialdom imposed more rules, but it also conferred power to act with greater convenience.

Within the academy, Chen Jianchen indeed encountered the scholar Xiao Hanfeng, who painted portraits on the streets. They struck up a conversation and soon grew acquainted.

Xiao Hanfeng, too, came from a poor family in the distant Beiliu Township. He had ridden a yellow ox all the way to Minghua Academy. Riding an ox served two purposes: it was transportation, and upon reaching Jiangzhou, he could sell the valuable work ox to pay his tuition. However, studying at the academy was expensive, and one ox was insufficient, so he also sold paintings on the street.

Hanfeng’s demeanor seemed somewhat dull-witted, but in truth, he was a classic taciturn man. After becoming friendly with Chen Jianchen and Wang Fu, he was requested by Wang Fu to paint on the spot. Hanfeng produced eighteen paintings of spring scenes and palace imagery, each distinct and meticulous, as skillful as performing the eighteen martial arts forms—every detail vivid and lifelike.

Wang Fu treasured the works as precious gems, admiring them with delight. Then, with eyes gleaming with intensity, he stared at Hanfeng in a way that made the quiet man uneasy. Wang Fu exclaimed, “Brother Hanfeng, you’re onto something big!”

Hanfeng was puzzled, unaware of what he had discovered.

Wang Fu asked, “Brother Xiao, where did you learn this art?”

Hanfeng scratched his head and sheepishly replied, “No one taught me. I’m self-taught.”

Wang Fu immediately gave a thumbs-up, sighing, “A natural-born genius! With skills like these, why sell paintings on the street? Why eat plain porridge with pickles every meal at the academy?”

Hanfeng gradually understood, “Senior Futai, do you mean these can be sold for money?”

Wang Fu clapped his hands, “Not just money, but a great deal of money. Hanfeng, come with me to Yihong Pavilion and Liuniao Tower a few times, and you’ll realize how valuable your paintings truly are.”

At the mention of money, Hanfeng’s eyes sparkled. Having grown up impoverished, enduring hunger and cold during his early studies, he harbored a special attachment to wealth, a strong sense of possession.

“All right, Brother Futai, I’ll count on your guidance from now on.” Thus, the two like-minded men linked arms, leaving their mutual acquaintance, scholar Chen, standing aside.

Truly, human friendships often hinge on a matter of fate.

Chen Jianchen had originally hoped to learn some painting techniques from Hanfeng, but for now, he let the idea go.

Spring thunder rolled in waves, one peal after another, followed by drizzling rain as smooth as silk, weaving a delicate thread between heaven and earth.

Listening to the continuous thunder, Chen Jianchen suddenly recalled that Ying Ning had sent Xiao Yi to deliver a letter long ago, but no word had arrived since. She was probably still in seclusion, diligently refining her golden core. Forming a golden core was a tremendous task; if successful in overcoming the tribulation, Ying Ning would take human form. He imagined her as a girl dressed in white, well-educated, gentle, and smiling softly.

Thinking of Ying Ning brought an inexplicable warmth to his heart. For this little fox spirit who had once shared hardships with him in the mountain village, he held a unique affection—tender and endearing, quite unlike the lively and mischievous Jiao Na.

Due to special circumstances, this year’s academy spring outing with Qingxue Academy was canceled early. When the news spread, a few lifelong bachelors among the students sighed deeply in disappointment.

Although unable to mingle with Qingxue Academy, the academy launched another event. This one was led by the Jiangzhou Education Commissioner, Lord Gu, and details would be announced in mid-March. Rumors suggested it was related to this year’s imperial grace examination.

This year marked the reigning emperor’s thirtieth birthday—thirty years old and established. According to tradition, an imperial grace examination was to be held.

Unlike the regular provincial or metropolitan exams, the imperial grace examination was held on auspicious occasions in the royal family, adding special tests and creating an additional roster known as the “Special Recommendation List.” Those named were almost certainly approved by the emperor for success—a manifestation of imperial favor, much like a general amnesty.

Of course, the list was short and competitive, selecting the best talents from the provinces—at least, that was the official story.

In reality, most candidates on the imperial grace examination’s special list were preordained—tailor-made for second- or third-generation officials.

In Jiangzhou, if Wu Wencai had not met with misfortune, he would certainly be among those specially recommended.

On the day of the incident, the Minister of Rites lost his only son, and the court lost two Black-Clad Guards. The gravity of the event was immense, yet no one came forward to investigate the case. Instead, the matter was quietly shelved, which was highly suspicious. Perhaps the court believed a demon was responsible and chose to suppress the matter to avoid public panic?

Even so, some details remained illogical and obscure.

Wu Wencai died without a proper burial, and whatever became of the imperial grace examination was no longer his concern.

A few days later, insiders obtained more information about the imperial grace examination and the academy’s new event: the Education Commissioner intended to select two representatives from the academy to travel to Kaitai Academy in Zhizhou for an “academic” exchange—ostensibly an exchange, but truly a talent competition.

Kaitai Academy in Zhizhou was among the top academies of the Tiantong Dynasty, alongside Yue Lu Academy in Huzhou and Shuntian Academy in Hangzhou, collectively known as the Three Great Academies, ranking just below the Imperial Academy in the capital.

Kaitai Academy had a long and illustrious history, having produced countless renowned scholars and high-ranking court officials, holding great prestige in the educational world.

This year marked the academy’s 300th anniversary, prompting a grand celebration. The talent competition inviting representatives from various provincial academies was a highlight, complete with the gimmick of crowning the “Number One Scholar Under Heaven” to attract outstanding talents.

Minghua Academy was naturally among the invitees.

Compared to Kaitai Academy, Minghua lacked both fame and confidence. Most participants sent to such contests were merely companions to the crown prince’s tutors, ultimately returning home empty-handed.

Still, having accepted the invitation, the academy had to send representatives. The Education Commissioner was currently discussing with the principal and several instructors to determine the best candidates.

With hundreds of students and only two spots, the choice was challenging.

Upon hearing this news, Chen Jianchen’s heart stirred with excitement. He did not so much desire to compete for fame as he wished to go to Zhizhou.

Nie Xiaoqian was in Jinhua, Zhizhou.

If possible, Chen Jianchen hoped to visit her on the way.

Since parting in Jiangzhou, they had scarcely exchanged letters; their connection had been severed. In this isolated world, distance often extinguished all ties.

Chen Jianchen cared for Nie Xiaoqian, but more than that, he knew of an abandoned grand temple in Jinhua—

Lanruo Temple!

One of the three great ancient monasteries, alongside Xiaoleiyin Temple and Jinshan Temple.

The familiar names Lanruo Temple and Nie Xiaoqian seemed destined to collide fiercely in the unseen realm.

Chen Jianchen wished to become a representative to Kaitai Academy, but all the other students desired the position as well. It was a tremendous opportunity; performing well might earn the Education Commissioner’s favor and a recommendation to the “Special Recommendation List.”

Thus, everyone’s spirits lifted, and they began employing various means—gifts to instructors and the principal’s household, lobbying through connections, and pulling strings. Compared to their busy maneuvers, Chen Jianchen remained silent—he had no influential connections, and with his nature, he found it difficult to flatter and beg.

The representatives were not decided for a long time, and the students grew distracted in class, each hoping to be chosen. Meanwhile, whispered discussions filled the dormitories as students speculated and voiced opinions on who stood the best chance. Chen Jianchen’s name was seldom mentioned.

As the top talent in the third round of the boy’s examination, Chen Jianchen was once a shining star of Minghua Academy, but his first year was mediocre at best. Aside from composing a timely poem during the spring outing, he had shown no other brilliance. His scores in the annual and imperial exams were fourth class, and he had been reprimanded by the education official—truly living up to the old saying, “Great reputation often fails to live up to expectations.”

It was no wonder they doubted him. Strictly speaking, Chen Jianchen’s first year was unqualified: frequently absent, silent in class, with no talents beyond calligraphy, socially aloof and solitary. If he continued so lackadaisical, he might even lose his status as a stipend student.

And so, today, Chen Jianchen had once again taken leave, disappearing without a trace.