Chapter Eighty-Five: Fighting for Dignity (Double Chapter Combined)

Now that the end of the year had arrived, the county academy was far more crowded than before.

During Fan Zhongyan’s reforms, it was decreed that each prefecture and county must establish schools, and that scholars were required to attend for three hundred days before being permitted to sit for the autumn examinations.

Completing three hundred days of study in two years was no small feat. With the autumn exam imminent, those students who had not yet fulfilled their attendance hurried back, for otherwise they would lose the qualification to participate in the following year’s prefectural examination.

Zhang Yue entered the dining hall of the academy, where the clatter of chopsticks and spoons against rice bowls filled the air.

Outside, the cold seeped deep into the bones, but inside the crude shelter, the students sat at rough cypress tables and benches, the aroma of food hanging thickly about them, their chewing and the clinking of pots and dishes blending into the lively din.

Such austere days often left a deeper mark on one’s memory than the times of wealth and privilege.

Zhang Yue glanced about, then continued his conversation with Guo Lin and a few other classmates from the "Yue Study Hall."

The moment Zhang Yue walked into the dining hall, all eyes turned to him.

"Sanlang!"

"Sanlang!"

As Zhang Yue passed by, students swallowed their food and rose to greet him.

He returned their greetings with a cheerful smile, nodding to each in turn.

"Sanlang, the ginger paste from your family’s shop is simply delicious."

"That’s all thanks to my elder brother’s handiwork. Have you finished it? I can have the shop send more to your house."

"Sanlang, you’re generous, but I wouldn’t dare take advantage of you. Tell me the price and I’ll pay for it. I’d like to buy some to give to others as well."

"Many thanks, Brother Liu, for your support of our family’s business."

"Sanlang, if my friend and I go to your shop for a meal, could we get a bit of a discount if we mention your name?"

"Ah, Brother Yu, it would be my honor to have you visit. All my fellow students are the same to me; just for dining at our place, I’ll have a bowl of ginger paste sent to your table—but please, don’t make a fuss about it."

"Of course, thank you, Sanlang. Your ginger paste is truly excellent."

"Sanlang, I heard you registered for all nine classics?" At this, the others set down their chopsticks and looked over.

"Yes, I did. It’s a bit embarrassing, really."

"Incredible, truly incredible. You’re surely going to make a name for yourself this time."

"I wouldn’t dare claim so. I’m just giving it a try. If it doesn’t work out, I hope you all won’t laugh at me!"

The group burst out laughing. "Sanlang, among all the classics students in the county, you’re second to none—don’t be so modest!"

"If not you, then who?"

Zhang Yue simply smiled, exchanged a few words and gestures of respect with the others, then went up to the counter to collect his second-tier meal. Today’s offering wasn’t bad: three large steamed buns, steamed eggplant, boiled radish, winter bamboo shoots, and a ladleful of spicy-sour sauce.

He carried his bowl back and heard someone call, "Sanlang, sit here!"

It was the head of the study hall, occupying a large table with several others, while seats on either side remained empty; the other tables before and behind were packed.

Zhang Yue and his companions, Guo Lin among them, brought their bowls over.

"Sanlang, did you bring any ginger paste today?" someone couldn’t help but ask.

Zhang Yue smiled and immediately placed a jar on the table. "Help yourselves, everyone."

The study hall head chided, "Aren’t you afraid others will laugh at you?"

The other man laughed heartily. "You don’t know, Hall Head, I go to his family’s shop just for the ginger paste, and the braised vegetables and meats. Here’s my bun—Sanlang, don’t be polite with me."

In the Song dynasty, a "steamed cake" was what we now call a plain steamed bun; "mantou" then had a small amount of filling, while "baozi" were buns with lots of filling.

Zhang Yue took it without fuss, and Guo Lin shared his pickled vegetables with everyone.

The group divided up the food, offering and declining, joking and laughing, finding a unique joy in this camaraderie.

Nearby, an older student, not recognizing Zhang Yue, asked those around him, "Who is that? Are scholars these days all so talented?"

Someone replied, "How could you not know Sanlang Zhang?"

"I’ve been ill and away from the academy for half a year. If not for needing over a hundred more days of attendance for next year’s autumn trial, I’d still be recovering at home."

"That explains it. Sanlang’s elder brother recently passed the metropolitan exam, but because his ranking was lower than that of his cousin, he gave up his official post…"

"I’ve heard that story. No wonder. I studied with Zhang Erlang for two years, so I know him well. But why did his younger brother choose the classics stream instead of the civil service exam?"

"That’s a long story. Sanlang entered the academy by passing the examination for proficiency in five classics, and now he’s the acknowledged authority on the Book of Changes and the Rites of Zhou in the classics study hall."

"What? Two titles in just one year? No wonder they say, ‘Like elder, like younger brother.’"

"And now he’s registered for all nine classics, sitting for eleven papers in the public exam. The news has stirred not just the classics study hall, but even the civil examination students."

"Remarkable! If he truly passes all nine, his achievement will match the sixth rank in the top tier of the metropolitan exam. Even passing as a lower nine-classic scholar would be equivalent to the third tier."

"Indeed, we’ll see how he fares this time. How old is Sanlang this year?"

"Fourteen."

The other, startled, exclaimed, "He’ll only turn fifteen after the New Year. He could qualify for the ‘child prodigy’ examination!"

Another laughed, "They say thirty is young for a classics scholar, fifty is young for a civil service candidate. For Sanlang to master the classics at fifteen—he’s in quite a hurry!"

"Whether he succeeds or not, we’ll see how he does in this nine-classics trial."

At that moment, someone entered the teachers’ study in the county academy.

"New wine with green froth, a little red clay stove. At dusk, as snow threatens to fall—shall we share a cup?"

With a hearty laugh and this verse, Assistant Instructor Sun strode into the study of Hu, the academy’s learning director.

"Assistant Sun, welcome. Forgive me for not coming out to greet you."

"Not at all, Director Hu. Drinking this wine is a pleasure, and the aroma of this meat is irresistible…"

Director Hu placed wine cups on the table, smiling. "This is ginger paste and braised pork from our local shop, which I had my servants fetch through the snow. Would you care to try some?"

"Since I have business to discuss, let us talk over wine and food," replied Assistant Sun with a broad smile.

But Director Hu’s expression grew serious as he quickly invited Sun to sit.

He understood that the public examination was quite different from the private one.

The academy held private trials behind closed doors, but the annual public exam was presided over by the county magistrate himself, with supervisors sent from the prefectural academy. That was why Assistant Sun had come to Pucheng.

A small stove warmed the wine, while the aroma of ginger paste and braised pork filled the room.

The two men ate meat with their wine, each bite accompanied by a cup.

After three cups, Assistant Sun stroked his beard and said, "Commissioner Cai will be arriving in Pucheng soon."

Director Hu paused, his chopsticks suspended in midair, speechless for a moment.

"Let’s drink," Sun said with a laugh. "Commissioner Cai is here to inspect local governance and check the prisons. The academy’s recommendation of talented students is only a secondary concern."

Director Hu relaxed visibly.

The Transport Commissioner was the highest administrative official of the circuit, but rather than staying put, he was required to tour the various counties and prefectures regularly.

One month he’d be in this prefecture, the next in another—there was never a moment’s rest.

"Even if he isn’t here solely for the exam, his arrival at this time makes everyone nervous. I hope you can advise me on a few points."

Assistant Sun took another swig, his whole body warming, then bit into a chunk of pork jelly. "No problem at all, Director. This ginger paste is truly fragrant."

"It comes from the Zhang family’s shop. When you return to the prefecture, I’ll send a few jars with you."

"Thank you. The Commissioner suffered a setback at court over the Zhang Gongzi affair in Jinjiang, so he’s in low spirits. But you needn’t worry too much. His reputation for wisdom is well known, and he favors the promotion of talent. If, during his visit, you can recommend some outstanding students, you’ll earn credit for yourself and for the county. He may well be pleased."

Director Hu smiled. "There’s no shortage of talent here. In the civil examination hall, there are several… all skilled writers and scholars. But in the classics hall, Zhang Yue—Sanlang—stands foremost."

"Oh? Is he not the one who composed the prodigy’s poem and passed the entrance exam with proficiency in all five classics?"

"That’s him," Hu nodded.

Assistant Sun paused, wiping his face with a warm towel. "I’ve met the boy but never quite figured him out."

"He is learned without limit, diligent without weariness. In just a year, he’s become the top classics student, rivaling even his second brother."

"To master the classics requires great effort. Has he truly worked so hard?"

"To be honest," Hu laughed, "he’s been scolded by me for napping during the day. But his achievements are so exceptional, I can only turn a blind eye."

"Napping in the daytime?" Assistant Sun chuckled. "I wouldn’t have dared, before I gained my own official post. How long does he nap?"

"An hour each day, it’s said."

"Then he must study late at night? Burning the lamp at midnight, rising with the rooster at five?"

But Director Hu shook his head. "No, he goes to bed after the second watch. When others ask, he says the key to studying is perseverance. The worst thing is to burn the midnight oil only to neglect it later. One day’s sun, ten days of frost."

"If Yan Lugong were alive, he’d have boxed his ears!"

"It's hard to believe. Some students, thinking he must work in secret, tried to stay awake for seven nights straight to see if he rose to study by candlelight, but…"

Both men sighed deeply.

"What is his method, then?"

"When asked, he says he listens attentively to the lectures, does his assignments daily, and reviews before the monthly exam—nothing more."

"He’s pulling their leg!" Assistant Sun declared.

"But he excels in every test. Within half a year, he became the acknowledged authority on the Book of Changes and the Rites of Zhou. Students struggling with those texts all turn to him, and he answers every question with patience, like a master teacher."

Sun was left speechless.

"Each night, he buys a big candle for the room, and reads by its light with his classmates, never missing a day. If perseverance is the key, he has it indeed!"

"Well said," Sun nodded.

"And this time, only he has registered for all nine classics, to sit for eleven papers."

"The classics exam has never seen such a thing, has it?"

"Indeed, not because no one dares, but because it’s too grueling. Eleven papers in three days, each with a hundred memorization questions, fifty interpretive questions, ten essay questions. That means writing from sunrise to sunset for three days straight!"

"Even if one can answer every question, exhaustion would set in."

"If he manages this feat," Sun mused, "it will be an extraordinary tale. I recall: one classic, pass nine; two, pass eight; three, pass seven; five, pass six; nine, pass five, isn’t it?"

"Exactly. Five is a passing grade."

"If he passes six or seven, why not grant him first place among classics students?"

"And if we nominate him for the Imperial College?"

Sun hesitated. "Each year, only two or three from the entire prefecture are recommended, and the final decision rests with the prefect."

"Even in the capital’s provincial exam, nine-classic candidates need only pass six."

"In the past, six was enough, but since the new emperor, the civil exam has taken precedence, and all other quotas have shrunk. Even passing seven out of nine may not guarantee the degree."

"And passing all nine? That’s even harder, with only two or three chosen per subject—equivalent to the top tier of the civil service exam."

"But let him try. If he excels, we’ll recommend him to the Commissioner, who is known for mentoring promising youth!"

At this, both men laughed.

A few days before the public exam, Zhang Yue brought several jars of ginger paste from his family’s shop to Director Hu.

Hu smiled. "You bring this so often, people will think I’m greedy. Tell me the price and I’ll pay."

"Director, you flatter me. What cost is there in what our own shop makes? Just tell others you like it. With your reputation, the customers will come."

Hu stroked his beard. "You do have a clever tongue. Very well, I never accept gifts from students, but I do favor you. Don’t get any ideas, though. You’ve registered for eleven papers, but I won’t leak the questions to you. Pass on your own merit!"

"Thank you, Director. That’s exactly what I hope for."

"Are you so certain you’ll succeed?"

"I dare not claim so, but I’ll do my best and strive not to disappoint your guidance."

"Do well. If you pass five, don’t bother coming to see me again. If you pass six, I’ll petition the magistrate to waive your meal fees for a year—but only for second-tier meals! For first-tier, you’ll have to pay extra."

"You know me well, Director. You know what I want. And if I pass seven?"

Hu smiled. "That’s not for me to decide, but I’ll do what I can for you."

"Thank you, Director!" Zhang Yue replied sincerely.

Hu nodded slightly. "Sanlang, give it your all. Make a name for yourself—don’t let people keep calling you Zhang Erlang’s younger brother. Do it for yourself as well as your family. Go on!"

With a wave of his hand, Hu dismissed him, and Zhang Yue quietly withdrew, murmuring, "Thank you for your guidance, Director."