Chapter 57: The Scholar’s Appraisal

“Brother Song, you can stay in the room next to mine. There’s a clear stream behind the house, and if you walk a few hundred meters south, you’ll reach the Prefectural Academy.”

Song Mu did not refuse Kong Zong’s invitation. To have a quiet place to study and prepare for the upcoming county examination was exactly what Song Mu had been hoping for.

Now that Kong Zong was offering him such convenience, Song Mu was deeply grateful.

“This is truly wonderful, Brother Kong. Once again, I am indebted to you.”

Carrying his belongings, Song Mu stepped into the tasteful little courtyard. Seeing the spotlessly clean rooms, he couldn’t help but feel a surge of emotion.

Kong Zong merely waved his hand with a smile—compared to the great fortune Song Mu had given him, this was a trifling matter.

Moreover, after spending the past few days together, Song Mu’s gentle and humble nature was very much to Kong Zong’s liking. To befriend such a person, to have a confidant, was something Kong Zong sincerely desired.

“Once you’ve settled in, Brother Song, why don’t we get a meal together at the restaurant next door? The food has been plain these days, I’m sure you’ve found it rather tasteless.”

“Very well, but this meal must be on me,” Song Mu replied with a smile.

Kong Zong laughed heartily and nodded. “No problem, Brother Song, I won’t stand on ceremony.”

Song Mu felt just as genuine about this friendship—Kong Zong’s kindness and respect were not mere surface gestures but came from the heart. Their interactions were tranquil and harmonious, reminiscent of the camaraderie between true gentlemen. Song Mu sincerely valued this friend.

After tidying up his bedding and luggage, Song Mu and Kong Zong left the house and found a table by the window on the second floor of the restaurant next door, where they ordered their meal.

Jizhou Prefecture was built along the mountains, the city rising high, and from here, one could see the river in the distance. Song Mu caught sight of the Gan River winding outside the city walls.

As night fell, the last rays of light lit up the great river, making it shine like a dragon stretching across the land.

“What a splendid view,” Song Mu exclaimed, and Kong Zong, glancing out the window, nodded in agreement.

“If you ever wish to settle in this city one day, Brother Song, I’m sure it would suit you well,” Kong Zong said, to which Song Mu only offered a faint, serene smile.

A servant came to pour their tea, when Kong Zong suddenly remembered something and pulled a booklet from his robe.

“Brother Song, I nearly forgot—the latest issue of the ‘Universal Literary Journal.’ My uncle waited in line for hours at the bookshop to get it. Take a look.”

He handed the book to Song Mu, who accepted it with curiosity. It was indeed the July issue of the journal.

Holding the journal, Song Mu unconsciously pressed his lips together, anticipation in his eyes.

Earlier that day, he had only just learned from Master Fan, the examiner, that the latest issue had been released—and that his poem was published within it.

Recalling the examiner’s praise, Song Mu held his breath, eager to see what sort of commentary his poem would receive this time.

With a trace of nervousness, he turned to the poetry section, and the very first piece he saw was his own: “Lamenting the Ancient Academy Amidst the Chaos at Shiyang City.”

The poem occupied an entire page, and the analysis beneath it was particularly extensive. The first stanza alone referenced many classical allusions, and each was annotated and explained in great detail.

After the notes, there was a brief explanation of the poem’s background, vividly describing the demonic turmoil that had befallen Shiyang County that day—an annotation that brought out the full weight of the poem.

Then came the commentary:

“Throughout history, a true man must harbor lofty ambitions and seek renown. The rhythm of this poem is exquisite, every line adorned with allusions, using the past to reflect on the present, employing poetry as self-expression—heroic grandeur flows throughout, with dramatic rises and falls. At first reading, one senses a deep unrest, and by the end, realizes this is the indomitable resistance of a scholar. I hear the poet is also the author of that stirring essay, and this poem is likewise bold and unrestrained, brimming with patriotism and the determination to vanquish evil. Reading it deep into the night, I recalled the glorious days of old, and could not help but reach for my treasured sword, a surge of hot blood in my chest. This is truly a masterpiece among battle poems!”

As Song Mu read these words, a vivid image came to mind: somewhere in Chang’an, an imposing old man sits by lamplight, reading this poem. Stirred by its lines, his heart swells with heroic spirit, and he rises to take down the sword hanging on the wall, drawing it to wipe the blade.

A faint smile appeared on Song Mu’s lips. Such praise filled his heart with excitement.

When he glanced at the signature, his eyes widened in astonishment.

The great scholar Feng Qi.

This time, the commentary was not written by the previous Grand Academician Yan Fu, but by a renowned master in the literary world.

Feng Qi, a man of the Wen Dynasty from the illustrious Feng family, had become a jinshi at the age of thirty, achieving top honors in all three imperial examinations—a paragon among scholars. In his Hanlin years, he had once fought three demon lords alone and emerged undefeated, earning fame across the land. After sixty years, he attained the rank of Grand Scholar.

Now, as one of the Wen Dynasty’s elders and an esteemed figure, it was unexpected that he would write a commentary for Song Mu’s poem.

Song Mu stared in shock at the name, while Kong Zong, peeking over at the journal, nearly popped his eyes out.

“It’s actually the great scholar Feng Qi!”

“That such a luminary would write a commentary for you, Brother Song!”

Kong Zong could not stop exclaiming, his excitement greater than Song Mu’s. Carefully reading the commentary, he grew even more animated.

“Who would have thought, Brother Song, that your poem would bring you such renown! Even the great scholar holds you in such high esteem!”

“To think, on the day you wrote this poem, what a scene it must have been! I regret drinking so much that night and missing it all!”

Kong Zong looked utterly regretful—on that day, he’d been plied with wine by the others and passed out, only to learn the next morning that something momentous had happened in the city. Now, he could only slap his leg and sigh in frustration.

Song Mu took a deep breath, finally recovering from the shock.

After a few more words, the two friends let their excitement pass, and Kong Zong offered his congratulations. With such talent and recognition, Song Mu’s deeds would certainly be recorded in the annals of Shiyang County.

Throughout the county’s history, only Song Mu’s ancestors had ever been featured twice in the “Universal Literary Journal.” Yet never had anyone managed to take first place in the poetry section twice in a row.

Both of his poems were lauded for their extraordinary talent, unmatched under heaven.

At this, Kong Zong’s regret turned into appetite, and he declared that before the upcoming examination, he must learn from Song Mu the true art of poetry and prose.

After their meal, they returned to the house, and, weary from traveling, each retired to his room.

Back in his room, Song Mu weighed his purse—a single meal had cost more than a tael of silver, a bit extravagant for his current circumstances.

Yet soon his face relaxed into a contented smile as he picked up the “Universal Literary Journal” once again.

Flipping through the pages, Song Mu no longer dwelled on his own poem, but began to read the other articles.

“The northwest conflict has ended, with heavy losses for the demon clans. A bounty of seven thousand taels of gold is offered for the head of Du Feiying, along with a reward of a demon king’s blood bath. Outlaws across the land are on the move.”

“In the Central Provinces, the destruction of the Qingzhou literary lineage has been resolved. The Celestial Guards killed a demonic cult leader in Jizhou Prefecture, Jiangnan West Circuit, and are now investigating further leads.”

“Examinations across the land are about to begin. It is rumored that this year’s questions will be set by the Prince’s Tutor, who served as Provincial Examiner for the Central Provinces in the twentieth year of the Chongwen era. His standards were famously strict, and that year saw the fewest successful examinees in fifty years. Thus, it is said this year’s tests will be the hardest in memory.”

…

Song Mu browsed the current events, read a few essays from the Hanlin scholars, and felt his thoughts drifting.

Another month had passed, and the affairs of the world unfolded before his eyes, filling him with inspiration and deepening his curiosity for the mysteries of this realm.

Yet what mattered most to him now was the county examination. Only by becoming a licentiate would he be able to look upon the world’s affairs as more than a spectator, with more than just sighs of regret.

Steeling his resolve, Song Mu washed his face, spread fresh paper on his desk, brightened the oil lamp, and began practicing his essays.

…