Chapter 81: Grading the Examination Papers

Song Mu spent an hour penning two short essays, yet still felt it insufficient, so he continued to write by lamplight, composing several more stories and weaving them together.

"The Man-Eating Fox," "The Demon in the Stone Wall," "The White Jade Serpent," "The Forest Tree in the Deep Mountains," "The Blue and Red Horse"—each tale drew inspiration from the strange chronicles and dramas Song Mu had read in the past. He preserved only their basic plots, inventing new details and character traits. Gone were the beautiful encounters between humans and spirits; instead, he depicted every enchanting scene as a snare laid by demons seeking to devour mankind.

At first glance, these stories had an air of mystery and amusement—tales of the supernatural always caught the reader’s eye. But as the narratives unfolded, the reader gradually realized how cunning and ruthless the monsters were, ever scheming to consume humans. Reaching the climax, one could not help but break out in a cold sweat.

These stories combined entertainment with cautionary purpose, and Song Mu was thoroughly satisfied with the result.

Having finished, he carefully gathered the pages, planning to seek out a bookshop in the city the next day to see if he could have them printed and published. That evening, while wandering the bustling streets, Song Mu had noticed several places selling illustrated storybooks, and storytellers recounting ancient and modern legends. All of them used vernacular language, and this genre of supernatural tales surely had a market.

With these thoughts, Song Mu finally lay down to rest, closing his eyes to restore his mental energy.

By now, much had changed within the ancient book in Song Mu’s mind: the pages were filled with new content. There was the deconstructed "Song Family’s Annotations on Ancient Sayings," as well as numerous poems he had composed. Not only that, but the two pieces he had written in the examination hall that day now appeared in the ancient book as well.

Judgments had already been rendered:

"At the Wu River"—Talent: Five pecks. Battle poem.

"Song of the Southern Village"—Talent: Seven pecks. Battle poem.

Yet, of all his poems, only those written before arriving in the city now glimmered faintly with light. Song Mu had seen this phenomenon before: it was the natural gathering of literary energy from people who recited and spread his works. He had asked the scholar brothers about it; they explained that this was the beauty of literary transmission—every reader contributed to the author’s literary aura, greatly benefiting the original creator.

However, "At the Wu River" and "Song of the Southern Village" had yet to show any sign of this—they had likely not been disseminated, probably still lying in some box at the examination hall.

With these reflections, Song Mu, now overcome by fatigue, drifted into a deep sleep.

Meanwhile, within the examination hall, Examiner Fan was leading a group of graders in reviewing the examination papers. Their first task was to separate those essays that had reached the scholar’s threshold—these would be set aside for ranking after review.

Such papers were easy to recognize: every one that could elevate a candidate to the scholar’s rank was imbued with literary energy, the words pressing through the page, and the best among them carried a palpable weight. Even the examiners sorting them had to summon their own literary strength to lift them.

Beyond this, there was a process known as "paper searching," aimed at those candidates who had not yet achieved scholar status. Their essays might display some merit, but lacking sufficient literary energy, they had not passed outright. "Paper searching" gave them another chance: after the rankings were announced, they could receive a baptism from the Azure Radiance of the Literary Star. If, through this opportunity, they managed to break through, they too would be granted the scholar’s title.

The number chosen for "paper searching" was one-tenth of those who had reached scholar status.

The sorting itself was simple: separate the two groups, then review the failed papers for "paper searching." Each examiner gave their opinion, and the results were passed up to the deputy or chief examiner for final judgment.

At this moment, the deputy and chief examiners had begun reviewing the scholar-level papers.

"This essay on the classics is indeed well written. That phrase from the ancients—‘learning knows no end; a gentleman values learning and delights in it’—excellent, excellent," Deputy Examiner Xiao Li remarked, nodding as he read an anonymized paper. He finally marked it with a red circle and placed it on the table beside him. Chief Examiner Fan glanced at it before returning to his own review.

"This year, seventy-one scholars have passed in Jizhou Prefecture, more than ever before. Ah, I find it hard to stay calm," Xiao Li murmured, taking a deep breath before turning to the next paper.

After some time, Xiao Li’s eyes began to sting. He rubbed his temples, feeling his concentration wane, so he stood to stretch his limbs. Pouring himself a strong cup of tea, he saw that Fan Zhengxiong was still poring over papers. Xiao Li pursed his lips, carefully lit a new candle, and resumed his reading.

"Another hour and it will be the second watch. Lord Xiao, you should rest soon—continue tomorrow," Fan Zhengxiong suggested. Xiao Li nodded but nonetheless picked up another paper to read.

The moment he held the paper, Xiao Li noticed the handwriting was distinctly different—not ordinary regular script, but with the charm of Yan and Liu styles. Each character’s main stroke was slender, with only the initial and ascending strokes thick and bold. This delicate script made the text appear less heavy and gave the page a pleasing sense of space.

Xiao Li silently praised the penmanship—an essay with such fine calligraphy was already impressive. But he calmed himself, knowing that the quality of an essay depended on more than its handwriting.

Immersing himself in the essay, Xiao Li soon brightened.

"Not rigid, not forceful, not heavy." The key to the classics essay lay in recognizing the source of the phrase—this was the first scoring point.

Clearly, the candidate had discerned it, and with more insight than most. The most significant feature of the prompt was its placement of "not rigid" at the beginning—a small change, but one that altered the meaning of the entire sentence. The examiner was looking for the candidate’s stance on this nuance.

Loyalty and trustworthiness were well and good, but what mattered more was the advocacy of learning.

At the very start, Xiao Li noticed the character for "learning." The candidate’s approach was clear and direct: from ancient times to now, it was humanity’s capacity for learning that had opened the world, revealed wisdom, brought civility, and enabled people to lay foundations amid chaos. A superb introduction—not only emphasizing learning’s importance for the individual, but for the world at large.

Xiao Li felt he had discovered a fine essay—his fatigue vanished as he eagerly read on.

He was soon engrossed, unable to stop, and had no idea how much time passed before he finished the two-thousand-word essay and exhaled a long, satisfying breath, tinged with joy.

"What a fine essay! ‘How can the stream remain so clear? Because it has a source of living water!’"

Xiao Li slapped the table, startling Fan Zhengxiong. Their eyes met, and Xiao Li quickly raised the essay.

"Lord Examiner, this essay deserves first place in the classics paper!"

Fan Zhengxiong raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "Brother Xiao, there are still many papers left to read. Isn’t it a bit early to decide?"

But Xiao Li shook his head firmly. "No, my lord. This essay truly fits the prompt!"

Fan Zhengxiong, skeptical but curious, accepted the paper, blinking as he handed over the one he held. "You may say so, but the essay I have here is also quite good."

...

End of section.