Chapter 111: Registration at the Prefectural Academy

The morning mist had already dispersed. Sunlight played upon the vast surface of the river, dancing with the breeze to create ripples of glittering light, while the faint, rhythmic chants of the boatman drifted through the air.

Song Mu looked up at the scenery outside the porthole, exhaled, and set down his brush. Beneath it, several lines of text had already taken shape.

"Brother Song, would you like something more to eat?"

A wooden door was pushed open, and Kong Zong stepped in. The morning sun followed him into the narrow cabin. The two were currently aboard a wooden boat, some dozen meters long, traveling southward.

Song Mu and Kong Zong had spent ten days in Shiyang County before setting off for the prefectural capital to begin their studies and cultivation at the Prefecture Academy.

Those ten days had flown by, but Song Mu had helped his family with many things. Their braised food stall was now up and running, and after a few days of trial operation, the profits were quite encouraging. With dozens to over a hundred copper coins coming in each day, Song Liangda could not stop grinning.

Before departing yesterday, Song Mu had inscribed a poem on the newly restored Jingzhen Pavilion. For a young man to leave poetry on such a landmark was considered a fine tale, and for a moment, he was the talk of the town.

"At the beginning of life, human nature is inherently good. Natures are similar, but habits make them distant..."

"Wait, Brother Song, are you writing a nursery rhyme?"

As Song Mu poured a cup of tea for Kong Zong, Kong Zong immediately noticed the text on the paper before him. He read it aloud, then looked at Song Mu with surprise.

Song Mu nodded and explained, "It was just a sudden thought, so I wrote it down. I haven't decided on the rest yet."

Upon hearing this, Kong Zong’s face lit up with joy. He reached out to take the paper with some excitement, read it carefully, and nodded repeatedly.

"The first twelve characters embody the teachings of Confucius and Mencius—that human nature is inherently good. Every word is like a pearl. Brother Song, I truly love this parallel prose."

As he spoke, Kong Zong savored the lines again, his expression growing even more delighted. He looked at Song Mu and said, "This three-character rhythmic style is very catchy. It is much better than the four-character rhythm of the *Thousand Character Classic*. Brother Song, you possess great talent!"

Kong Zong was filled with genuine admiration. When Song Mu had first mentioned the idea in passing, Kong Zong thought it was clever but likely difficult to execute. He had not expected that in just a few days, Song Mu would have already developed it. He felt a sense of inferiority.

Song Mu scratched his head, feeling somewhat embarrassed. This was merely an act of borrowing, and he still had no idea how to refine the subsequent content. Kong Zong, however, chatted enthusiastically with him for quite a while, even offering some of his own ideas.

"Brother Song, this time in the prefectural capital, you should continue to stay at my place. Let's be companions."

Song Mu shook his head and replied, "I think I will stay at the Prefecture Academy. It saves money, and with my studies being so busy, traveling back and forth would be a waste of time. I was actually going to suggest that you join me at the Academy, Brother Kong."

"That works too. I had the same intention."

Hearing Song Mu’s proposal, Kong Zong nodded without hesitation, clearly in agreement. Song Mu smiled. He had other reasons, of course; since he had now taken Master Tao Fengming as his mentor, he would undoubtedly need to receive specific teachings, and staying at Kong Zong’s private residence might prove inconvenient.

The two discussed what they needed to prepare for their entry into the Academy. Suddenly, Kong Zong slapped his forehead and headed outside. Before long, he returned holding something. It was a tablet, the length of an adult’s forearm and the width of a palm. It was pitch black and looked unremarkable.

"Brother Song, my father had someone bring these back a few days ago. One for each of us."

Song Mu took it and discovered a groove on the front, wide enough to hold something.

"This is a Scholar’s Tablet, forged by the craft guilds in the capital. It is of high quality. You place trimmed paper in this groove, take out your brush to write, and then pull it from the bottom—ready for immediate use."

Kong Zong explained as he inserted a piece of bamboo paper and pulled it from the bottom to demonstrate. Song Mu was amazed; this was a specialized tool for scholars of this era, designed for writing poetry in combat. After all, when facing demons, not every pre-written poem could accurately counter the threat. Moreover, if one’s cultivation was insufficient, the power of a written poem would dissipate over time. Thus, scholars and provincial graduates preferred to compose their poetry on the spot.

In the early days of using poetry to channel literary power, scholars carried wooden boards on their backs to hold their paper. Through constant improvement, the tablet was eventually developed. A single tablet could hold twenty sheets, the limit for a peak-level scholar. As for the more profound tablets used by provincial graduates, it was said they could store a hundred sheets and activate them without needing to be pulled out. Once one reached the level of a metropolitan graduate, such tablets were no longer needed; they could treat the world as their paper and command the heavens with a word, their power utterly transformed.

Song Mu played with the device, finding it quite novel. Kong Zong also gave him an ink stick provided by his father, Kong Qiqi, which was mixed with demon blood to give his poetry even greater potency.

"Once again, I am indebted to your father’s kindness," Song Mu said with emotion. Kong Zong waved his hand dismissively, his expression calm. "Why say such things, Brother Song? My father has always said that we should get along well. To ascend the ranks together—wouldn't that be a fine story?"

Song Mu nodded repeatedly, feeling a warmth in his heart.

The boat they traveled on was small and swift, making the journey upstream smooth. With the help of the sails, they covered a hundred miles a day. That afternoon, as the sun began to set, they finally stepped ashore and entered the prefectural capital with their belongings.

Looking at the familiar scenery, Song Mu felt a surge of excitement. From this day forward, a brand new chapter of his life would begin.

...

Since they had arrived in the evening, Song Mu stayed at the Kong residence for the night. The next morning, the two hurried to the Prefecture Academy to register. As it happened, many other scholars were also there to report, and by the time Song Mu arrived, a queue had already formed at the gate.

Although only the top ten from the prefectural examinations were admitted to the Academy, the descendants of metropolitan graduates and scholars who had died in battle were also eligible. Consequently, there were over twenty scholars waiting to register.

As soon as Song Mu arrived, several gazes turned toward him. Initially, he thought nothing of it, but noticing them whispering and pointing, he realized something was amiss. Just as he was about to step forward to ask, a scholar behind him spoke up.

"Top Scholar Song, I didn't expect you to arrive today as well."

Song Mu turned to see a lean, familiar face. After a moment of thought, it dawned on him. This was the man who had picked a quarrel with him after the second day of the examinations—Liu Jianyu, if he recalled correctly.

Song Mu bowed with a smile. Liu Jianyu wore an awkward expression, then seemed to remember something. "Brother Song, have you seen the latest *World Literary Journal*?"

"I only arrived yesterday and haven't seen it yet," Song Mu replied. Liu Jianyu’s expression turned solemn. He rummaged through his book bag and produced a thick volume. It was the latest issue, and because it coincided with the examinations, it was even thicker than usual.

"This issue was released only three days ago. The examination editions are highly sought after; I had a hard time getting my hands on one," Liu Jianyu said with a smile, offering the book to Song Mu as if presenting a treasure. His face was filled with admiration. "Brother Song, take a look. Your literary reputation has spread far and wide after this examination."

As he spoke, other scholars who hadn't seen the journal turned their heads. Amidst the curious and skeptical gazes of the crowd, Song Mu opened the volume.

Turning to the poetry section, the second poem he saw was his own, "Nan Xiang Zi." Scanning further down, he noticed the commentary was no longer signed by a mere academician or scholar, but by the Saint of Poetry himself, Du Keqin.