Chapter Seventy-Four: It Is Never Too Late to Meet Again

The scene of Zhang Yue and Guo Lin’s conversation with the steward had just been witnessed by someone nearby.

This person was none other than Sun, the assistant instructor from the Prefectural Academy.

Previously, Assistant Instructor Sun had been ordered by the Senior Instructor Li to admit Zhang Yue and several others into the Prefectural Academy, but the magistrate had secretly obstructed the matter. Now, Sun could only do as he was told. However, he heard that Zhang Yue had composed a "prodigy’s poem" during the county examination.

From what Sun had vaguely gathered, Zhang Yue had written a poem that was presented to a higher official, who seemed to appreciate it greatly.

But when Sun saw the poem himself, he felt it was nothing remarkable; not only did it stray from the rhyme scheme, but the tones were inconsistent. How could such a poem win praise? He suspected it was mostly likely copied from someone else, an attempt to pass off as his own and gain false fame.

Thus, Sun immediately sent someone to report this to the Senior Instructor.

Soon after, news came that Zhang Yue’s second brother had passed the metropolitan examination and was made a presented scholar. The Senior Instructor instructed Sun to investigate Zhang Yue’s background, but to do so discreetly. Then, Zhang Yue’s brother declined the imperial edict and gave up his degree…

Today was also the day Zhang Yue entered the County Academy, and Sun stood by, observing, curious to see what kind of youth this was.

The County Academy in Pucheng had over two hundred students in the presented scholar division, and just over a hundred in the classics division. In the south, the presented scholar examination was esteemed above the classics. Most well-connected families had their sons take the presented scholar route, and most county academy students in the presented scholar division were there by special recommendation; those who passed the examination were very few. These two, having both taken the classics division as examinees, were obviously without much background.

As for their origins, Zhang Yue could be considered from a humble family, while Guo Lin was even less than that.

Even their food showed the difference: the County Academy mostly served first- and second-class meals, with third-class being quite rare. Still, Zhang Yue seemed a decent sort, not the type for cunning or mischief.

“Let’s observe a while longer before making any hasty judgments. It would be wrong to ruin a person’s life so lightly,” Sun muttered to himself.

He then put on a casual air and approached.

The steward immediately stood up and said, “Greetings, Master Sun.”

Sun nodded and looked at Zhang Yue and Guo Lin. “Who are these?”

The steward smiled, “They are both successful candidates from the current county academy examination.”

Pointing to Zhang Yue, the steward added, “This is the top scorer in the classics division, admitted with perfect marks.”

“Oh, perfect marks?”

Sun stepped forward to scrutinize Zhang Yue.

The steward said, “This is Mr. Sun, assistant instructor of the Prefectural Academy. You two, pay your respects at once.”

Zhang Yue and Guo Lin hurried to bow.

“So you’re the top classics student?”

Zhang Yue felt a surge of delight—his reputation had already reached the ears of a prefectural academy assistant instructor.

“Student is ashamed,” Zhang Yue replied. “I was fortunate to place first in the classics division, but dare not claim the title of top student.”

This youth is careful with his words, Sun thought.

With a gentle smile, Sun said, “It is rare indeed for someone so young to be so modest. In recent years, the academies of our prefecture have tended to favor the presented scholar route over the classics, but this year, one who excelled in the classics was appointed as Lecturer of the National Academy by imperial decree, showing the court’s high regard for the path.”

Zhang Yue thought to himself: The position of Lecturer of the National Academy was formerly called Instructor. In the fifth year of Chunhua, it was changed to Lecturer, and only court officials could hold it. Even among a group of presented scholars, only a dozen or so might become court officials, so those who excelled in the classics were indeed comparable to the highest-ranking presented scholars.

Sun glanced at Zhang Yue and Guo Lin as he spoke. Guo Lin did not know what the position of Lecturer entailed, but Zhang Yue seemed quietly elated.

Sun sighed inwardly. Knowledge could be acquired through study, but understanding of these matters could not. Some sons of humble families, even if they scored well, entered officialdom completely ignorant; by the time they learned the ropes, their best years were often behind them.

In the ensuing conversation, Zhang Yue responded fluently, while Guo Lin could manage only a few words.

Sun now had a general impression of Zhang Yue: this youth hardly seemed the duplicitous sort. He would need to give a full report to the Senior Instructor.

While this was happening, Zhang Yue and Guo Lin paid their fees.

Sun said a few more words and departed. The two then went to collect their scholar’s robes.

This was a benefit of the County Academy—no payment required.

Wearing these robes in the streets marked one as a student of the academy, a scholar in the eyes of the people—a true man of letters.

The Song dynasty’s scholar’s robe was made of fine white cloth, with a round collar and wide sleeves. It was called a “lanshan” because of a horizontal band at the knee.

Han clothing fell into two types: the deep robe and the separate garments.

The separate garments consisted of an upper garment and a lower skirt, the latter resembling a kilt, tied at the waist—this was the most formal attire for Han men.

The deep robe joined the upper and lower pieces as one.

The “lanshan” was worn as a deep robe, but the horizontal band at the middle represented the ancient system of upper garment and lower skirt—above the band was the upper garment, below was the skirt.

There were two ways to wear the deep robe: the “curved hem” and the “straight hem.”

The “curved hem” involved wrapping the lapel around the lower skirt and tying it at the waist. When women wore the curved hem, it flattered the figure beautifully; in the grand days of the Han, both men and women favored this style.

The “straight hem” had a slit at the waist and a hanging lower edge; its flaw was that, when kneeling or sitting, it was easy to become exposed, especially since people did not wear trousers in those days.

Thus, in the Han dynasty, the curved hem was more formal and solemn than the straight.

But now, with trousers in use, the straight-hem deep robe was gradually replacing the curved.

The curved hem, after all, was troublesome to put on.

However, the scholars’ robes of the Song dynasty retained the curved hem style, for it was considered more formal and proper, regardless of whether students found it convenient. Officials and scholars who observed ancient rites still wore the curved-hem deep robe.

“Senior brother, how do you put on this curved-hem robe?” Zhang Yue asked, utterly bewildered.

Guo Lin looked equally helpless. “You’ve stumped me this time, junior brother.”

“We can’t very well go ask the Senior Instructor how to put on our robes, can we?” Zhang Yue suddenly laughed.

“Well…”

Zhang Yue said, “Senior brother, since we entered the academy, how many have you seen actually wearing the curved hem?”

Rules are one thing; whether they’re followed is another.

“That’s true,” Guo Lin conceded.

“I say, curved hem or straight hem, what’s the difference? So long as we don’t go without a scholar’s cap or wear a short-backed robe, we’ll be fine.”

To go without a scholar’s cap meant not wearing the proper headgear. A short-backed robe referred to garments cut too short in the back—not that one couldn’t go bare-bottomed, but that trousers should not be worn outside; the skirt or robe must cover them.

Guo Lin hesitated. “That might not be appropriate…”

“Let’s observe a bit longer,” Zhang Yue suggested.

Just then, the steward approached. “You’ve all received your robes. Let’s head to the dormitory together.”

“Yes, sir.”

As they walked, the steward said to Zhang Yue, “Assistant Instructor Sun knows you were the top classics candidate this year and holds you in high regard.”

“Thank you, sir. Thank you, Assistant Instructor Sun,” Zhang Yue replied, feeling a sweet glow rise within him, as if he were floating.

“Every year, the Prefectural Academy selects students from the various county academies for direct recommendation to the National Academy. If the capital academy does not accept you, you can go to the Southern Academy; if you can get Assistant Instructor Sun to put in a word, it’s as good as done.”

The Southern Capital of the Song dynasty was Yingtian Prefecture, which is Shangqiu. The National Academy there was formerly the Yingtian Academy, where Fan Zhongyan himself once studied.

There was an occasion when Emperor Zhenzong visited the Southern Capital, and the entire city turned out to catch a glimpse. All the students of the National Academy clamored to see what the emperor looked like—except Fan Zhongyan. His classmates were puzzled and asked him why he wouldn’t go.

Fan Zhongyan calmly replied, “There will be time enough to see him in the future.”

A few years later, after passing the metropolitan examination, Fan Zhongyan met Emperor Zhenzong in the grand hall of audience.